


Inflection Point

by GoodKingOridan



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Catra is She-Ra, Angst, Evil Adora vs. Hordak, F/F, Horde Adora (She-Ra), Lies about space ships are even more hurtful, Lord Adora, Magicatra AU, Mirror Universe, Moment of truth, Time Skips, Time Travel, magicatra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodKingOridan/pseuds/GoodKingOridan
Summary: When Force Captain Adora takes her shot at Hordak's throne, she thinks she'll finally have the life she's been working toward. But the portal that inadvertently opens is just the beginning of her troubles.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 130
Kudos: 567
Collections: Shera





	1. Inflection Point

The simulation ran again. Entrapta’s UI was anything but intuitive, and to Adora the figures and variables dancing across the screen were mostly just noise. But as fires began to dot the digital image of Etheria, the main thrust of this presentation became clear.

Adora frowned. Her mind began to race.

“You’re right,” Scorpia said. “That is not good.”

Entrapta typed on her console, bringing up more numbers and charts. “If my numbers are right – and they are – if we open a portal, the anomalies will be catastrophic.”

Adora nodded slowly. Without a portal, there’d be no Galactic Horde sweeping in to obliterate the Rebellion. This was their quickest way to victory. And yet…

Adora would need to play the next few minutes very, very carefully.

“Unacceptable,” she said. She turned as if to leave. “The portal is top priority, and the princesses are already here to retake the Mask of She-Ra. We need to open it now.”

“We can’t!” Entrapta sprang up on her hair and landed in Adora’s way. “Catra was right! Opening a portal would be disastrous – it would collapse and take us all with it!”

Adora saw Entrapta look toward the door. Probably she wanted to tell Hordak – he’d understand all the data and noise, and if the bad news came from Entrapta then he might actually take it gracefully. This bond between the two of them was becoming problematic.

Just as the princess started to turn, Adora reached out and grabbed her wrist. “No. Entrapta, this might be the only chance for Hordak to contact his people. Every second counts right now. I’ll go tell him to wait – you stay, and try to find a workaround.”

The scientist’s face was hard as ever to read.

“For his sake,” Adora added.

Yes – that did the trick. “I…suppose I could try to adjust for scale,” Entrapta said, hurrying back to her console. “If we only need to get a transmission through, even a microscopic portal could work. There’s a chance that the anomalies would drop off exponentially if…”

As Entrapta rattled on about the possibilities, Adora jogged to the door, Scorpia following close behind.

“Hordak’s not going to be happy, sunshine.”

“No, he won’t be.” There was no time to address that infuriating nickname. She stopped just outside the door to Entrapta’s lab as it closed and put her hands on Scorpia’s shoulders. “Scorpia, do you trust me?”

“Implicitly.”

“Keep Entrapta here. Keep her focused, redirect her, do whatever you need to – just keep her here.”

“What…”

“If I’m not back from Hordak’s lab in ten minutes, come find me there.”

Looking up at Scorpia, Adora wondered. There was something so sincere about this giant. Scorpia wanted friendship, and friends let each other in on secrets – it should have been the easiest thing in the world to let Scorpia in. But lately all Adora felt when she saw that look in her eyes was contempt.

“Adora, what’s going on?”

“Give me ten minutes.” Adora let go and ran down the corridors.

Hordak’s lab was much the same as ever. Green tanks of failed clones, arcane machinery towering up to the ceiling, and Hordak himself huffing about with a dour expression. If the portal machinery he’d been tinkering with for years looked any different, Adora hadn’t studied it enough to tell, except that Catra’s mask hung prominently in the center of it with all manner of cables and hookups connected to it.

Also, Catra was bound by the wrists to a nearby support pillar. That was new, too.

Adora caught herself staring and shook herself out of it. The situation was still very precarious, and it demanded focus.

“Lord Hordak – Entrapta reports problems with the portal,” she called out, standing at attention, holding her stun staff out at her side. Hordak and Catra noticed her, neither looking too happy to see her.

“See? What did I tell you?” Catra shouted at Hordak. “The last She-Ra cut us off! I’m not clever enough to make this stuff up!”

Hordak walked up to her with fists clenched. “What are you saying, Force Captain?”

“I’m afraid she’s right, Lord Hordak. Entrapta says a portal would destroy Etheria – I don’t know the science but I know how thorough she is. If she says we cannot open the portal…”

Hordak turned to the table behind him and slammed both fists down. The impact was like a grenade blast, sending broken instruments flying in all directions and crumpling the metal table itself like foil. He roared with frustration and tossed the table at Catra, who leapt up and shimmied the column just before it struck where she’d been.

He turned to Adora, his red teeth bared in a snarl.

“There is still time. Bring Entrapta here at once!”

Hordak turned back to his work.

And screamed as Adora’s staff struck him in the back.

“No – she cares about you, Hordak.” Adora held the staff like a spear, one end held against her waist, the other held out at range in front of her. She stabbed forward again, getting Hordak in the shoulder and sending him staggering back with a sizzle. “And we need her. She can’t see this.”

She felt confident that she outmatched him in skill and discipline – no one ever saw him training. But she could not match Hordak in strength or physical resilience. She needed to finish this fast.

One jolt from the staff would have grounded most opponents, and two would have knocked most unconscious. Hordak was still on his feet, doubled over, so Adora swung the staff in one wide, fluid arc back, over her head, and crashing down on Hordak’s back. He struck the ground heavily.

Adora lunged forward and planted the stun tip in the small of his back, keeping it there while he sparked and screamed. “Look at you. You act so rugged, but every order you’ve ever given the Horde was just so you could get a big brother’s approval. You’re just like the rest of them, another weak, needy child. The Horde needs better.”

She thumbed the controls in the middle of the staff, boosting its power output.

“I’ve been wondering…what value do you even bring to the Horde? You’re not much of a leader, you’re not much of a fighter, and it turns out, now that we’ve got a real one, that you’re not much of a scientist.”

The staff started to whine and sing as its output approached maximum.

“All you had left was this promise of an army from your brother.”

The staff poured all its power into Hordak, and she kept it on him. This would be the most thuggish kind of overkill with an ordinary combatant, but who knew how much juice it would take to put this alien down.

“But if that’s off the table, Hordak…it’s time for you to go.”

Apparently, however, it would take more juice than that. Despite his clear agony, he shot a hand up, grabbing the electrified tip directly. It crumpled in his hand with a loud pop.

“Uh oh,” Catra said.

Hordak swept Adora’s legs out from under her with a kick. She went down, but she was able to keep hold of the staff, the crumpled tip simply falling away in Hordak’s hand as she wrenched it back. She swung at his head as he crawled toward her, but he blocked with his arm – that could have broken a human arm, but he gave no sign he even felt the blow through his armor.

She got to her feet, quickly backpedaling from Hordak’s advance. She twirled the staff around, bringing up the stun element that still worked. Hordak reached out, driving his claws into some blocky metal instrument that he then chucked at her with staggering force. She dodged, the projectile only grazing the end of her staff, the force of it even then almost knocking her off her feet.

This was bad. She thought the stun rod might have less effect on him than most, and she knew Entrapta had made him this armor and that Entrapta tended to make things that worked, but she had not expected to come up this empty-handed. She needed something that could alter the playing field. Looking around, she noticed that in the heat of battle, she had up on the other side of the room, near Catra. And the portal equipment.

Catra looked between Adora and Hordak with growing concern. Again, she scrabbled up the column – even with her arms tied behind her back, she was able to shimmy up off the ground, a feet of claws and upper body strength that Adora had to admire.

“I’ve got to say, Adora: as your evil schemes go, this one’s a little underwhelming,” Catra said.

"You impudent little brute,” Hordak spat. “Every time I think I’m close to teaching you barbarians respect, you…”

Adora amped up the power in her staff, and struck the portal controls with all her strength.

“NO!” Hordak cried. He took the bait, charging forward, and while Adora hoped his distraction might buy her at least some edge, it worked out even better.

As Hordak passed by Catra’s pillar, Catra dropped down and shot out her legs, getting them around Hordak’s neck, squeezing him back against the pillar and lifting him a few inches off the ground.

Hordak’s face contorted in choking rage. He reached his arms up – it would be no issue to get free with his superior strength. But now that Adora had a free moment to look him up and down, to admire this fine suit of powered armor Entrapta had made for him, she knew she had one clear opening, and the place to strike was so obvious she was ashamed of herself for ignoring it.

She hefted the staff like a bat, measured the distance between herself and Hordak, and just as he was getting a hold of Catra’s waist, she struck. She let it swing in a wide arc in front of her and around her head once in a full circle, picking up momentum, and then on the return swing she brought the very end of the staff crashing into the chip of Old One’s tech right below Hordak’s throat.

It shattered. Hordak screamed as his suit powered down, and what had been a masterpiece powered exoskeleton a moment ago now dragged him to the ground in a heap, more restraint than protection.

Catra released him and set her feet back on the ground. Adora walked forward. Their eyes met.

“You did it,” Catra said. They smiled at each other, little sad, uncertain smiles. “I mean, you had help. But you did it.”

Adora caught her breath. Yes, they’d done it. She tried to feel something, to feel more – she’d thought about this moment so much for so long, and now that it was here she was surprised how flat it felt.

“Yeah. This is it, Catra.” She cocked her head and looked down at Hordak contemplatively. “It’s the day I take over the Horde.”

Catra’s smile faltered. “What?”

Hordak groaned and tried to push himself off the floor. Adora hefted her staff again, driving the stun element down like a spear onto Hordak’s chest. It did not pierce his armor, but as he screamed and spasmed much more violently than he had, she saw the armor granted him little real protection now. She waited a second, but saw he was finally out cold. The only sound was the portal machine, still sparking violently behind her from her strike.

“I always wanted you to be here when it happened, Catra.” Adora looked up at the bonds holding Catra in place. “Maybe not _exactly_ like this. But still. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Adora, you beat Hordak! There doesn’t even have to _be_ a Horde anymore! The war can stop today, right now!”

Adora raised an eyebrow. “Why would we stop right before we won?”

Their eyes locked. They reflected the same frustration at each other.

“Adora, people are suffering! What’s the point of fighting now?”

“What’s the _point_? Catra, this is what we’ve always wanted! It’s here, it’s happening right now! I understand why you left, but Shadow Weaver’s gone, Hordak’s out of the way, all those obstacles that seemed so hard to get past, they’re all _behind_ us now! The Horde is ours!”

Adora’s composure was shredding. A heaviness that was greater than she could account for welled up in her stomach, and she blinked tears out of her eyes.

“Catra…” She stepped over Hordak, put her hands on Catra’s waist, leaned her head forward against Catra’s forehead. Catra didn’t move – not that she could. Adora closed her eyes.

“It’ll be us,” Adora said. “Come on. You’ll look out for me, and I’ll look out for you, just like we always said. All you need to do is say that you want this, that you want--”

She stopped herself. She couldn’t. Adora chastised herself as no better than the rest of them, another weak and needy child. She told herself this was no way for the leader of the Horde to act or talk or feel, and that she knew Catra’s answer already. But she let the offer hang in the air between them for a moment nonetheless.

“Oh, uh, hi, hello, uh…Adora?”

They both turned. Scorpia was in the doorway, gaze pointedly shifting from her unconscious lord to the two embracing enemies. Adora took a step back.

“What happened to you, Adora?” Catra whispered.

“Is…this a bad time? I can come back if…”

Adora sighed and took a step back. “No, we’re just finishing up here.” Her stun staff whined to life, and she touched the end of it to Catra’s chest. She cried out in pain, then slumped to the ground, unconscious.

“Hordak took the news poorly, Scorpia.” Adora took the shackles off Catra’s hands. “He has abandoned us, taking a broken spacecraft that he never told anyone about to try to find Horde Prime on his own. Tell Entrapta.” She put the shackles on Hordak’s hands. “She’ll take it hard, but tell her she’ll always have her friends here.” She stood, and nodded down Hordak. “But first, put this on the shipment to Beast Island.”

The gravity of what Adora was saying, what she was making Scorpia an accomplice to, sank in. Not so much the obvious overthrow of their leader – Hordak plainly had it coming – but the long-term deception that they’d both be committing against their friend.

“Quickly, Scorpia. Before the princesses get here.”

It only took Scorpia a second, but she came around. What was she going to do, after all? Refuse her?

“Yeah, Adora.” Scorpia scampered over to Hordak and knelt to pick him up.

“And I’ve been lenient with you, Scorpia. I’ve tolerated the nicknames and familiarity, but now, I have to insist you address me by my station.”

Scorpia looked up. She seemed hurt, and confused, and acutely aware that she was kneeling.

“Yeah, Lord Adora.”

“Where is Hordak?” Adora asked.

“He…left on a ship.”

“Yes. Keep saying it to yourself.”

Scorpia left, looking dejected but hustling all the same. Adora knew she only had minutes left before the princesses arrived, knew she had dim chances facing a group of them all on her own. But they’d have to leave on their own soon, before they expended their precious magic.

She idly spun her staff. Again, the portal machine sparked and flashed.

She only had a few minutes.

So.

Kill Catra? Or just destroy the mask?

Catra stirred, just starting to move. Adora considered her staff.

Kill Catra?

Or destroy the mask?

She was still making up her mind when the portal machine, its control mechanisms blasted away, sparked to life all on its own.

The world seemed to shimmer, then explode into white light, cracks of energy shooting out in every…

“What is it?” Catra asked.

“What’s what?”

Catra looked up at her from the foot of the bed. “You just gasped.”

Adora looked around. Had she just gasped? She couldn’t think of why. The barracks were quiet, and everything was in order.

“It was the Wailing Princess dream again, wasn’t it?”

“What? No…” Adora blinked. “…I have no idea what it was.”

Catra stretched and curled herself back into a ball, closing her eyes. “Yup. Wailing Princess dream. Called it.”

Adora tried to make sense of the creeping dread she felt, the feeling of betrayal, the desire to hurt someone, but only fragmented images came to mind. Nothing made sense. But training wouldn’t be any easier tomorrow without a good night’s sleep.

“Wasn’t the Wailing Princess dream,” Adora grumbled under her breath as she settled back down to sleep.


	2. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The portal and the ascendancy of the brutal Lord Adora were just unpleasant dreams that Adora has awoken from. Now things are back the way they were. Nothing at all is amiss.

“How did we get up here?”

Catra looked out over the Fright Zone, wide-eyed and tense. Adora looked at her, a little annoyed.

“We…climbed?” Adora said. They were sitting in their Spot, a high ledge overlooking Hordak’s refineries and smelting facilities.

“Yeah, I’m sure we did.” Catra shook her head and tried to carry on. Something was clearly still bothering her but she was trying to make conversation. “Anyway, how was Force Captain training? Are you and Hordak, like, besties now?”

A thought intruded on Adora, an image of her knocking Hordak to the ground with the strike of a staff. Its vividness unnerved her. She could hear the thud, feel the impact in her arms. Thoughts like these had been intruding on her all day. Anxiety over her new position, probably.

“We didn’t see him. Just emphasizing duty and responsibility.” It was actually really weird. That one other Force Captain, the princess – Scorpia – had been looking at her the whole time like Adora had killed her dog, and avoided her when she tried to see what was up. “Got my first mission. I’m taking a force to raze Thaymor.”

Catra sneered. “Don’t you mean ‘liberate’?”

Adora stopped. That  _ was  _ how the mission had been framed - assaulting a fortified rebel stronghold and liberating the area from the tyranny of the princesses. It was how all Horde offensives she’d ever heard of were framed. But for some reason she thought of Thaymor and could only picture Horde tanks rolling into a defenseless village.

Adora looked up at Catra and saw the same confusion she felt on Catra’s face.

“This isn’t what you asked me up here to talk about, is it?” Adora asked.

“Not at first. Now it feels related. I’m positive you said ‘liberate’ before.”

“What do you mean, before?”

Catra looked at Adora for a long moment. “OK, I’m going to lay some stuff on you. Promise you won’t get weird about it, or tell the others, or tell me I should see Shadow Weaver about it.”

_ Oh, so now you worry what I think? The people you grew up with, your only friends - now you care if we reject you? Maybe if  _ -

Catra looked at her sidelong. “Because you...kind of look like you’re already getting weird about it.”

Adora blinked. She was shocked with herself. Catra wasn’t always easy to have as a best friend, but it wasn’t easy to grow up in the Fright Zone, either. Adora knew she had no occasion for such aggressive, unkind thoughts, and they felt unfamiliar and alien in her head. They felt like somebody else was thinking her thoughts for her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry - I don’t know what’s up with me today. Yes, I promise I won’t get weird.”

_ All you have to do is say you want this, that you want -  _

She felt a warm blush in her cheeks. This, too, she could not account for.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to get weird,” Adora amended.

“Well, that’s all anyone can do.” Catra sighed. “I’ve been seeing things, Adora, the last few days. Bright flashes; things appearing and disappearing; weird, I dunno, visions. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve done all this already, like I’m reliving my life.”

Adora hadn’t seen any of that. The intrusive thoughts had been getting really vivid the last few days, but Adora was ready to chalk those up to the pressures of her new command. She nodded for Catra to go on.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me, if I’m going crazy or what, but I’ve been testing it out and I’m convinced I’ve already lived this week. Like, I’m back in time or something. Does that sound crazy?”

It did, objectively, but Adora had to admit that Catra usually bottled things up. As a rule, she did not talk this much this openly about things that were bothering her. That she had instigated this conversation told Adora to take this very seriously. And after all, who could say what was possible? What was Shadow Weaver doing all the time with that runestone? What was Hordak getting up to in his lab?

Hordak’s lab. A sparking console. A mask suspended by thrumming cables to an arcane machine.

“I believe something is happening that isn’t just in your head,” Adora said.

Catra sighed in relief. “ _ Thank  _ you. It’s happening now, too, but it’s weird. I remember us sitting here, I remember you telling me about your Force Captain meeting, but I am positive you said you were going to ‘liberate’ Thaymor.” Catra narrowed her eyes at Adora. “But now you say you’re just going to destroy it. And that makes me think you’re seeing the same stuff I am, at least some of it.”

_ You have the nerve to talk to me about what happened at Thaymor? _

Adora, who still did not consciously know herself what happened at Thaymor, not clearly, closed her eyes and tried to suppress this inexplicable rage again.

“I’m seeing it as like...a village?” Catra suggested. “That sound right? Little deer people having a celebration?”

The anger did not fully pass, but Adora just pushed on. “Yeah. It’s no kind of stronghold, Catra. It’s just farmers, and the mission is to wipe it out and set up a forward base to move on the Whispering Wood.” Adora stared ahead. “It’s a rite of passage. It’s meant to be a massacre, and I’m meant to learn the lesson that bringing order to Etheria will require ugly, brutal work, and...”

_ And I do.  _ She stopped herself before she said it.

Catra whistled. “Rough. Got to break a few eggs to make an omelette, I guess, but still...though I’ll be honest, I don’t remember any of that explanation.”

“No, you wouldn’t. I remember Shadow Weaver telling me when I got back. But you’re not there by that point, you’re…” Adora examined these spotty visions, tried to make sense of them. Adora remembered coming back from Thaymor, remembered debriefing with Shadow Weaver, remembered feeling rage and loss, but…

Adora pushed the thoughts aside. She sensed danger there. “Not to get off topic, Catra, but what the heck’s an omelette?”

“You know I don’t remember that either? I just remember they say that about them. They’re food, like a little yellow ration bar with other food inside. I remember someone making them for brunch in a brightly lit room, somewhere outside the Fright Zone.” Catra frowned, an ear twitching in annoyance. “What the heck is ‘brunch’?”

Adora shrugged. “Anyway, yeah. Shadow Weaver thinks that if I go alone, I’ll follow orders and trust in Hordak’s vision, but you’re willful enough that you might get me to disobey and show mercy.”

“Yeah, so she orders me to stay back. I can see it so clearly, though, so I must go to Thaymor, too. But that can’t be. That would mean I…” Catra gasped and held one hand up to her mouth. She whispered in melodramatic horror. “...Oh my God. I  _ disobey  _ Shadow Weaver.”

Adora could see in her eyes that she was waiting for Adora to laugh. The best she could manage was a small grin.

“Seriously, though, can you picture what happens at Thaymor?” Adora asked. “I remember leading a Horde attack, and I do feel like you’re there, but after a point it just becomes fuzzy.”

“Not really,” Catra said. “I can’t tell how it ends up. I just feel like whatever it is, it’s the start of something good for me. Hard, but good.”

“Hm. I try to picture what happens, what you’re doing there, and…” Adora found herself clenching her fists. She struggled to give words to unfamiliar, frightening emotions. “It makes me want to scream and hurt something.”

“So, so it makes you feel like your good buddy Catra?” Adora didn’t respond. Catra poked her in the side. “Like your good buddy Catra, Adora?”

Adora could see Catra in front of her, braced against a pillar, her arms raised and tied behind the pillar. She couldn’t tell how they got in that situation or how she felt about it, except that she certainly felt  _ a lot _ . Again, the blush came on. She couldn’t even make enough sense of the emotions to tell if they were anger or embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to cope,” Catra said. She dug into one of her pockets. “You seeing the flashes, too? Like, bright, spider-webby, lightning-y flashes all over the place?”

“No.”

Catra took out a piece of folded-up paper and handed it over. “And what do you see when you look at this?”

Adora unfolded it.

It had a crude drawing of Catra sticking her tongue out. The sloppy letters spelled out “Ur dumb.”

“Sorry, this is very weird. I’m not feeling jokes right now,” Adora said.

“OK, so it didn’t change for you! I was going to put it in your locker and it was going to be way funnier before we started having this whole deja vu, possible time travel situation, but anyway - when I look at it now, it just says the word ‘Mask.’”

Adora saw a red mask, really more of a headband, vaguely feline in its features, hung up in the middle of a sprawling machine.

“Hordak’s lab,” Adora said. “I think there’s a mask in there.

“I see it, too. I...think it’s mine? And it’s causing this somehow. I think we need to…”

That same mask, sitting crown-like on Catra’s brow as Catra held out her hand to Adora. The smoke of the burning village wafted around Catra, but the light reflected clearly off that band of metal.

Adora gritted her teeth. “I think whatever this is, we need to fix it.”

Catra gave her a look that Adora could not read. Was she seeing these same scenes? What was Adora doing in them?

“OK, then. I guess that’s a lead,” Catra said. “Let’s go see what the fuss is about.”

They climbed down. Again, this took Adora some time and effort and took Catra very nearly none. Catra was looking around anxiously when Adora got down, and looked at her with particular concern.

“What?” Adora asked. Catra nodded behind them. Adora followed her gaze and looked behind her at the ledge they had just descended from, but there was nothing. Instead of a high ledge with various pipes, ducts, and structures to climb their way up, there was just a sheer drop a foot behind Adora. The whole structure was gone, with no sign it had ever existed.

“Where were we just sitting?” Adora asked.

“Now you’re seeing it, too? The stuff vanishing?” Catra gave a little feline grunt of frustration. “Feel like that’s a bad sign.”

She turned, and they ran the rest of the way to the lab.

It was quiet in the citadel. The halls usually bustled with guard patrols, maintenance bots, and trainees throughout the day, and while the complex wasn’t quite abandoned, the mood was decidedly muted. Which was spooky and all, but also sort of advantageous, considering they were sneaking into one of the most secure locations in the Fright Zone. They jogged down the half-lit corridors a little more noisily than they may have otherwise.

They rounded a corner that should have led to another corridor, the quickest way to Hordak’s personal wing of the citadel, but as they turned they found only a wall in front of them. Catra skidded to a halt, but Adora made an undignified yip of shock and planted her face into the wall.

“Has this been what your whole week has been like?” Adora asked.

“Only here and there. I only convinced myself it was real today because it’s happening more and more. Come on, there’s other ways over there.”

“And just where are you trying to get to?” Shadow Weaver asked.

Catra cursed under her breath, or at least stage-whispered a curse loudly enough to Adora and Shadow Weaver and probably anyone else in the hall to hear. They both turned and found the sorceress looming behind them.

“Catra, your foolishness was intolerable enough when it only affected Adora’s training and the other students’ focus.” Shadow Weaver seemed to grow taller, the hallway behind her darkening and the gem in her mask shimmering with cold, red light. “But now that Adora has actually made something of herself, your distraction may mean the difference between good Horde soldiers coming home alive or not. I will not…”

“Shut up.”

It really was quiet in the citadel that day. Adora thought she could hear a pin drop as Shadow Weaver turned a disbelieving look at her, the sorceress’s affronted rage matched only by Catra’s amazed, giddy disbelief.

Adora searched her memories and her visions for any time she’d ever mouthed off or talked back to Shadow Weaver. Nothing came to mind, only the awareness of a steadily building resentment, and and an accusation that echoed in her mind:

_ You drove her away. _

Two guards in full helmeted uniform were passing by down at the other end of the hall; one poked another in the shoulder and pointed at this altercation, and they both started slowly backpedaling out of view. Shadow Weaver turned her ire not toward Adora, but toward Catra. “You see what you’ve done? I’ve waited too long to separate you two - it seems you’ve infected her with…”

Adora considered her course of action. Running wouldn’t work - Shadow Weaver would just paralyze one of them. Talking things out wouldn’t work - this was Shadow Weaver. Adora was considering the equally-implausible route of picking up a heavy object and knocking Shadow Weaver out - was surprised how actively she was considering it - when there was a flash like a bolt of lightning in the hallway.

Shadow Weaver was gone. There was no remnant of her, no pile of dust, no eerie vapor, no rustle of air filling in the vacuum that a vanished being might leave behind. The two guards at the other end of the hallway were gone, too.

“Please tell me you saw that,” Catra said.

“I saw that.”

They kept running. Adora slowly stopped recognizing the halls they passed. She recognized the layout of the building more or less, but rooms were missing, and signs, and the personnel who should have been buzzing about with Hordak’s important business. She felt she was approaching the part of a nightmare where it was getting weird and scary enough that she’d wake up, Catra at her feet and everything okay.

Instead, they reached Hordak’s lab. There were still guards here, two armored soldiers with stun-staffs.

“Halt!”

“You take the one on the left,” Catra said.

Adora took the one on the left, sidestepping his thrust and closing with him. She got her hands on his staff, planted her foot firmly behind his leg, and and jerked the staff up and forward. The staff knocked the front of his helmet, and as he stumbled back he tripped over Adora’s foot and fell back.

Another flash, and he was gone. Adora hadn’t even heard him hit the ground. Catra looked around, disoriented - her guard had vanished, too.

Catra grabbed Adora’s hand. “If you flash out of existence like that, I’ll kill you.”

She pulled Adora in the door and into the forest of tanks, machinery, and cables that made up Hordak’s lab. Adora kept the staff in her other hand - it felt comforting to have some kind of weapon. Catra’s hand tensed as soon as they entered, which Adora took as a sign that Catra remembered what the lab looked like in the future, remembered the device with the mask hooked up to it, and realized, then, just as Adora did, that both machine and mask were gone.

“Well, crud,” Catra said.

“Where is it?” Adora asked. 

“What do we do now?”

“What do we do?” Adora spat back. “I didn’t even know what we’d do if the thing  _ was  _ here! How am I supposed to know what to do now that…”

Catra’s ears twitched, her eyes went wide, and she yanked Adora behind a lab table. Only then did Adora hear the heavy, clanging footsteps approaching from the hall.

There was a time when this situation, seconds away from being discovered by Lord Hordak himself while violating his inner sanctum, mere days after finally making Force Captain, would have been the stuff of Adora’s worst stress dreams.

But today, Adora vaulted onto the table and leapt at Hordak, striking the tip of her staff right at Hordak’s chest and letting the momentum of her whole body bowl him over as she fell. He looked angry at first, his default expression, but in the fraction of a second between when he saw her face and when the back of his own head hit the ground, she saw fear in the eyes of the Lord of the Horde for the first time in her life.

She knew she had beaten him before, or would beat him in the future again, or however she was supposed to think about this. But even then, she remembered, he’d only looked pained and furious.

He was still conscious when he hit the ground, but he just lay there, looking up at Adora in terror.

“You’ve killed us,” Hordak hissed. “You opened the portal, and so you’ve killed us all.”

“Do you know something?” Catra asked as she hopped out of hiding. “Do you know how we fix it?”

“It hardly matters. Even if you save the world, my transmission will have gone through. Horde Prime will arrive to find that world you saved, that world I have failed to bring to heel, and he will wipe this planet’s surface clean.” He laughed, loud and completely without humor. “You’ve killed us, Adora! You’ve killed us! You’ve killed us! You’ve-”

Adora was backing away from this unsettling site when Catra grabbed her hand again and pulled her away. The whole room was starting to shake and shimmer with those same bright white lines, like fiery cracks in reality. They ran, the lab crackling, flashing, vanishing; as soon as they cleared the door, suddenly it was just a wall.

“I am fresh out of ideas,” Adora admitted.

“The Whispering Wood!” Catra shouted. “I remember, I found the mask there! Maybe we can find it there now, figure something out!”

That seemed like a stretch, but as Adora had established, she was out of ideas herself. They made their way to the hangar as Hordak’s citadel cried out, rocked with the screams and lights of whatever hell was overtaking them.

_ I did this _ , Adora thought.  _ Why did I do this? _

The hangar was unguarded, but thankfully the skiffs were still there. They ran to the nearest one, Catra severing its mooring lines and charging cables and Adora jumping on board to rev up its systems. The hangar collapsed just as the skiff shot out of it, and as they sped through the Fright Zone, it seemed as if the disturbances were pursuing them, fissures opening up in the ground and belching bright pink fire up into the night. As Adora steered them out of the developed areas and into the wastelands beyond, she and Catra watched as the Fright Zone in its entirety was swallowed up, the ground opening in a pink inferno.

It was the only home they’d ever known.

And the total absence of feeling Adora felt at seeing it collapse drove one thing home for her:

“This isn’t real.”

“Maybe not,” Catra said. “But I think it’s the best we’ve got.”

They sailed along in silence. Adora was relieved to see that the total annihilation that consumed the Fright Zone did not appear to be spreading - whatever had happened there, they had at least a little time.

They reached the Whispering Wood without incident. It actually seemed as they reached the dead quiet of the trees like it was a perfectly ordinary, perfectly peaceful evening. A little quiet for Adora’s taste - there was no constant reassuring thrum of the Horde’s unceasing industrial machine - but no sign of a planetary crisis, either. She anchored the skiff and made ready to head out with all due haste, anyway.

Catra was sitting on the edge of the skiff, looking out uneasily at the desert. “Adora, can we...do you think we have a few minutes? Before we head out?”

Adora shrugged. “I mean, the Fright Zone just blew up.”

But she sat down next to Catra all the same.

“So, we’re trying to fix whatever’s going on, right? And that probably means getting back to this other world we’re remembering. I still don’t know how we can do it, but I have to believe we can.”

“Well, of course we can! As long as the two of us stick together…” Adora trailed off.

The memories had been dribbling back the whole time, still incomplete, but enough that their old mantra felt hollow..

Catra sighed. “Yeah. That world, the real world, whatever...I don’t think we’re friends there, Adora.” She took Adora’s hand. “I think it gets really bad between us.”

Adora squeezed back. “I think you’re right. I keep seeing you at Thaymor. I think I lose you there.”

“Can we just sit here a second, then? While we’re still the way we were?”

Adora didn’t answer, but didn’t get up. She put an arm around Catra, and Catra’s tail wrapped around Adora’s waist.

_ Catra’s never this vulnerable _ , she thought.  _ She’s changed. Have I? _

Catra smiled. There were tears in her eyes. “You know, you’re an idiot. You’ll never lose me. I’m way too clingy.”

Adora blinked away her own tears. “Maybe we can get past it, then, whatever it is. I promise I’ll never give up on you, whatever happens.”

They only sat there a minute. It felt like they had that long, whether through some metaphysical sense or just through selfish reassurance. They sat, and held each other, and looked off into the night. Adora wondered what Catra was thinking about.

_ I’ll never give up on you _ .

All Adora could think about was why that sounded so much like a threat.


	3. Seeds of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra and Adora try to close the portal, but run into some difficulty when a second Adora shows up.

Catra ripped and tore at the cluster of vines in front of her.

“I don’t get it!” she cried. “It was here! I found the mask tangled up right here!”

She tossed a clump of vines behind her, getting Adora right in the face. Catra didn’t notice - Adora was sure she’d never seen this glade in her life, not even in the memories of whatever previous life she had where she’d visited the Whispering Wood more than once. Catra seemed very confident, though - questions like “Maybe you found it in some other pile of shrubs and vines?” seemed gauche.

“Do you think it got erased?” Adora asked, realizing this was an even less reassuring question.

“Well  _ that _ would be some bad news! I’m still not clear what we were going to do with this thing if we found it, but I’m pretty sure Plan B is just ‘sit here and wait for the universe to explode.’”

Almost as if on cue, the forest shook. Adora saw a series of those same bright, web-like flashes, and off in the distance she saw jets of bright pink fire shooting out of the opening ground. There was a roar of rifts tearing open in the ground, and of tons of dirt, trees, and rocks falling into them, though with no corresponding thud of all that matter hitting anything - it just fell forever.

“I think we’ve got to go.”

“But the mask!”

The disturbances had already reached them. The edges of the glade vanished, collapsed, erupted into eerie pink light, and Adora grabbed Catra and started to make a break for it.

“Run!”

“Ah, but Adora,” a voice called out. It sounded so much like Adora that she wondered for a moment if this was some new intrusive thought in her head. It was loud, though, and distorted, like when the Horde comm equipment started breaking down. “Does she have any idea where to go?”

An arm reached up from the inferno and grabbed the edge of the burning pit. The arm was solid, non-reflective black, an arm made of moving darkness. The arm that reached up after it, however, wore the sleeve of a very familiar red jacket.

In front of Adora’s disbelieving eyes, a second Adora pulled herself up from the fire. A jagged, shining scar of light ran from her waist all the up through the middle of her head. On one half of this scar, it was like looking in a mirror: the same uniform (though the pants were muddier), the same hair, the same scar above the same eye. On the other half, the doppelganger’s body was completely without definition, color, or light, black as the space between the stars.

The doppleganger smiled. “Hey, Adora,” it said.

“Any ideas what…?” Catra started.

“Nope!” Adora shouted, her mind inching toward panic.

“Trust me, this is just as weird for me,” the other Adora said, shouting to be heard over the storm of energy behind her. Still her voice had a clanging quality, like she was talking in a long, echoing metal corridor.

The doppelganger slowly walked forward, reaching behind its back, as the ground behind her began to collapse.

“Then let’s chalk it up to one more instance of weird time-crap and get  _ out  _ of here,” Catra said, and Adora didn’t need her to say it twice. They turned and ran, but they only got a few steps before a bolas wrapped around Catra, binding her arms and disrupting her balance enough that she fell to the ground with a yelp.

Adora immediately ran to untie her, but the doppelganger was still approaching them, taking long strides but in no very great hurry. Adora stood and readied her staff.

“Back off!” she shouted. “I don’t know what your deal is, but ‘me with a staff’ can beat ‘me without a staff’ any day of the week!”

“Sure,” clanged the other Adora. She was just outside of striking range, and Adora stepped forward with a flurry of thrusts, trying to stun this thing so they could get away. The double dodged to the left, to the right, deflected a thrust with a sweep of her wrist, all with movements that were mockingly casual and unhurried. “But I’m sort of cheating here.”

She surged forward as Adora tried one more thrust, getting her hands on the staff and planting herself firmly while Adora was off-balance, overextended from the thrust. The doppelganger pulled the staff back and up with all her strength, yanking Adora forward off her feet and sending her tumbling back toward the crumbling ground. She slid along the muddy forest floor and stopped herself from hurtling over into the abyss, but the ground gave way under her as she tried to get to her feet. She managed to grab hold of some dirt and grass, but that came apart in her fingers almost immediately, only giving her just enough time to reach her other hand up and grab more of the unstable ground.

The doppelganger appeared above her, now holding her staff. She had a confused little frown on the human half of her face.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I guess I have to say it: this is for the best.”

The doppelganger lowered its staff to Adora. She knew better than to trust this creature, but with her grip deteriorating, she had no choice but to reach out for the staff.

“Sometimes we need to break a little, before we can see how it all fits,” the double said.

As soon as Adora had her hands firmly on the staff, the doppelganger shoved it and Adora with it out over the edge of the chasm.

Catra screamed something, but Adora couldn’t hear. She fell, not so much downward, not just through space but more through time, falling off the increasingly precarious timeline of Etheria and getting swept up in a maelstrom of possibilities and hypotheticals. This was what was happening to Etheria, she realized: it wasn’t being destroyed, exactly, but was being fractured, every possible past and every possible future colliding into one chaotic, meaningless mess.

Memories assaulted her. Agony ripped through her body, the pain of every scratch and wound, every burn and every fractured bone, every heartbreak and every sin, from every conceivable lifetime, not remembered as a memory but experienced all at once in one infinite, inescapable now.

The Etherians had no concept of Hell: no philosophers or priests had conceived of something like boundless eternal suffering for even the worst sort of person. But with what little personal consciousness she had left, Adora found herself confronted with this novel idea.

_ Sometimes we need to break _ .

She tried to make it stop, tried to slow her reeling mind down and focus on something, on anything.

She was back in the Black Garnet chamber with Catra. They were kids. Then Shadow Weaver was there, gently reminding Adora to look after Catra even as she held Catra in a paralyzing hex and threatened to kill her.

She was in all moments that followed this, all the various moments in various divergent timelines that she and Catra would turn from each other. Sometimes Catra left her at Thaymor and sometimes it was the other way around. Sometimes the break came earlier, sometimes later.

She was in a regal bedroom in Bright Moon, Catra dancing in, pursued by the Queen and her consort, all of them laughing about a ball they’d be attending together. At the same time she was at a funeral, Adora ordering a state burial for Catra even though she had died a traitor to the Horde; Adora heard herself delivering a speech on loyalty and on the corrupting influence of the princesses. At the same time she was in a palace in outer space, standing at attention beside a throne, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to think anything but “Serve Prime.”

_ Sometimes we need to break _ .

She was back in the Black Garnet chamber with Catra. They were kids. Then Octavia was there, yelling at them both to leave Hordak’s treasures alone, threatening them both with latrine duty and half rations as they ran from her.

She was in all the moments that followed this, years of harsh but equal treatment among the orphans of the Horde, no one to tell Adora she was special, no one to tell Catra she was garbage.

She was on the smoking parapets of Bright Moon, the fires of the captured rebel capital dancing in Catra’s eyes as they took hold of each other, their lips met as Bright Moon burned, she was in the dungeons of Bright Moon, she was in the Fright Zone reporting Catra being killed in action, she was dead in the ground of Bright Moon herself, she was...

_ Sometimes we need to break. _

Adora smacked into hard ground, and the pain of impact briefly exorcised all these visions. She was back wholly in the present, for all that was worth. She shot to her feet and tried to see where she should be heading for safety, but there was no safety - she was on a floating hunk of rock and soil in the midst of more raging pink fire, more disintegrating reality. She was surprised that the fall had not hurt her more, but then she looked down at herself. Her right hand had turned black, not like it had burnt but like light no longer touched it. She could still move it and feel it, at least, though she noted the darkness was slowly spreading up her arm.

She couldn’t have fallen far. She looked harder through the flames, her eyes adjusting to the light, and she saw the rocky face of the cliff she’d fallen off of, about six feet away from her floating rock. That ground has highly unstable and actively collapsing, she knew, but knowing she had no other options, she leapt and hoped for the best. The pink fire, erupting from nowhere, from everywhere, licked at her as she passed, burning the present away.

_ Sometimes we need to break _ .

She looked around herself in a daze. She was in a room, in the Fright Zone judging by the architecture and the tinted sky she saw out the windows, but more richly appointed than any she’d seen there. She saw herself in a mirror on the wall: she was older and had scars on her cheek and chin to match the one on her eyebrow. She wore a sleeveless red dress, long and elegant, a crimson cape with green trim pulled around her shoulders. Her hair was straight and long, and resting on her ears was a thin gold crown, styled as two long, sleek wings with sharp tips pointing out just past her temples.

“What is this?” she muttered.

_ A possibility _ , she thought back to herself.

The door to the room opened. A child ran in, a little sprout of a thing, dressed in fine red garments worn in a wrinkly, half-buttoned mess. The child scampered to the bed at the other side of the room, giggling and smiling up at Adora as they dove under the bed.

Adora couldn’t move, able only to turn from the mirror and face the bed. Her mouth hung open. Her mind struggled to grasp or explain what she’d just seen as her heart threatened to stop or burst.

The child peaked out at her from under the bed, their furry face smiling up at her with an incomplete set of sharp, feline teeth. Adora returned the stare, slack-jawed and dumbstruck.

_ They have my eyes _ , Adora thought.

“Did I scare you?” the child asked, cocking their head. Adora could not believe how small they were, or how big they were. “I’m hiding.”  
The child screeched with delight as the door to the room opened again, this time only a crack, and they retreated back under the bed.

Catra poked her head into the room. She looked older, too, her mane barely contained in a ponytail. One of her eyes still shone a familiar gold; the other now glowed purple, and Adora saw as she looked that it was mechanical. It had been rough for all of them, it seemed.

“Hey, empress. I don’t want to alarm you, but we have reports of...” Catra looked around the room, then whispered very, very loudly to Adora: “ _...a rebel spy. _ ”

A badly-stifled giggle came from under the bed. Catra walked in, her green-on-red dress uniform in mostly good order except for the top few buttons. She made a show of looking in the closet for the rebel spy, and behind a flowering vase, and kneeling down to look under the rug - the rug bit got another giggle from under the bed. Catra acted like she was hearing this for the first time, head darting out, eyes searching the shadows under the bed. She got down on all fours in a pouncing stance.

Catra made a mock-threatening snarl and shot under the bed, one grasping hand ahead of her. At the same time, the child burst out on the opposite side of the bed and leapt on top of the bed, leaping over Catra and bounding out of the room in a four-legged gallop, laughing loud and shrill as they went.

Adora found herself frowning at Catra as she got out from under the bed and stood, and she found herself saying, “I really don’t like them pretending to be a rebel. Rebel spies aren’t a joke.”

“If Finn joins a rebel cell when they get older, I will issue an official apology,” Catra said, lifting her hands in an ‘I surrender’ pose. “On stationary and everything. But from what I hear of the Snows campaign, I think we’ll be rid of them much sooner than that.”

Adora raised an eyebrow. “There’s news?”

Catra smiled. “Lonnie’s waiting to give you a full report.” She held out a hand to Adora. “I think you’ll like it.”

Adora smiled back and reached for the hand.

_ See how it all fits. _

Adora smacked into the cliff face, her hands finding holds by instinct and training alone, her mind still reeling. Looking up at her outstretched arm, she saw the darkness had spread nearly to her shoulder. Whatever was going on there, it thankfully didn’t limit her use of the arm, only filling the limb with a slight cold tingle, and she started to climb as fast as she could. That last vision had evaporated almost completely, leaving her unable to remember anything but a set of eyes that looked like hers and a feeling of overwhelming joy. It was a future, and a happy one, but the details had vanished.

She reached a ledge and pulled herself up, much quicker than she thought she would have, but found that what she thought was the side of a cliff was really just the base of another, larger chunk of floating rock, adrift in the storm. She worried that this was all that was left of Etheria, but she thought of the future, the futures that she might have, and she found the strength to keep trying. She looked out in the direction she thought she must have fallen, and she saw another wall of rock. Bracing her mind against another trip out of time, she leapt.

_ See how it all fits _ .

She tried to focus this time on how they could fix this. She saw it so clearly - she climbed out of this chasm and escaped the Wood with Catra. At Bright Moon, they were welcomed - the Fright Zone’s destruction had wiped the Horde entirely from the timeline, and the King and Queen had no reason to distrust outsiders. She was in the audience chamber as Catra convinced Bow and Glimmer that they were friends.

She was on the road with them as they journeyed to Dryl to consult Entrapta. She saw the disruptions catch up with them, saw first Bow and then Glimmer vanish, heard Entrapta fade off and vanish mid-sentence as she explained how to shut this down - and the price that would need to be paid.

And then she was there. She stood with Catra and Queen Angella on a thin, fragile sliver of ground, the remnants of the floor in Hordak’s lab. In front of them hung the portal machine, the mask of She-Ra shining bright as a star; around them, above and below and out, was a sea of endless, formless black.

“You think I want to do this?” Catra was shouting. “You think I want to get stuck here alone forever?” But for all the horror in her voice, she turned from Adora and started walking toward the mask.

Adora reached out and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back. Her arm, she noticed, was black all the way up to the shoulder - this was a future that sprouted off from this present, then, where the fires had done this to her. “This isn’t right! I don’t care about this destiny crap! This is  _ my  _ mistake, Catra, and I’m not going to...”

Catra pushed her away. Time was Catra would have hissed or scratched or puffed out her fur, but the performance now was unconvincing - Catra turned back to her, and when Adora reached her hand out again, Catra took it.

“Take her away from here, Angella,” Catra called to the Queen. “Adora...I’m sorry.”

Adora knew she only had seconds before Catra sacrificed herself out of a misguided sense of destiny, sacrificed herself for Adora’s own failure, condemning herself to an eternity alone and Adora to a life without her. Angella was giving them this moment of resolution, but she was also moving to interpose herself between them and the mask. Adora could tell she had no intention of letting this stand, either - it was clear in her eyes that the Queen meant to take this upon herself.

“Be good,” Catra said. She tried to pull away but Adora pulled back hard, putting one hand on the small of Catra’s back and gently gripping the back of her head with the other hand. She held Catra’s face a few inches from hers, saw all the jumbled emotions she felt reflected back at her.

“I will be,” Adora said. She got a leg behind Catra, locked her grip on Catra’s head and the back of her outfit, and before Catra could make sense of what was happening, Adora pushed her off balance and heaved her off the edge of the platform.

“Catra!” Angella called out, moving forward just too late. It was an instinctive reaction - she stopped herself before diving after her, looking appraisingly at Adora. They were both thinking the same thing - Catra was in no real danger, and would be immediately restored as soon as the mask was removed. The only question was which of them would be the one to do it.

“Will you leave?” Adora asked. “Or do I need to kick your ass?”

Angella looked at her sidelong. “I never knew what Catra saw in you.” Angella nodded. “I see it now. You girls, you and Catra and Glimmer - it is humbling to see the courage you have.”

“This isn’t courage. It’s just that no one pays for my mistakes but me.”

“Facing your mistakes takes more courage than anything else,” Angella said. She took a step back and held her chin up in a nod of respect. “Thank you, Adora.”

She fell back, wings spreading and taking her out into the darkness.

Before her nerve gave out on her, Adora turned, reached out to the thrumming mask, and…

_ Sometimes we need to break _

...she grabbed onto the rock wall.

The darkness was spreading. It had crept all the way up her arm and past her shoulder. She could feel the same cold tingling in that arm spread up her neck and onto her face, into her skull, and she found that the vision she’d just received was staying longer. Which was good - this one, she knew, was important.

She climbed, her flesh-and-blood arm growing tired and her cosmic darkness arm feeling fresh and invincible. She reached the top of the cliff. With only momentary surprise, she found she could hear voices on the ground above - her right ear, the one she guessed was swallowed by this spreading darkness, had no trouble hearing over the eruptions and crumbling forest.

“Run!” she heard herself shouting from atop the ledge.

_ Ah - I guess that’s my cue _ .

“Oh, but Adora,” she called out, and yes, her voice did indeed have that clangy, metallic quality now. “Does she have any idea where to go?”

She pulled herself up over the ledge and got to her feet. A few feet ahead of her, staring at her in horror, were Catra and another Adora.

_ Ugh - is that really my horrified face? _

“Hey, Adora,” she said. She smiled - suddenly, out of all this confusion and chaos, the way to total victory seemed clear.

“Any ideas what…?” Catra asked.

“Nope!” the other Adora responded.

She walked forward, remembering just how fast she needed to go to stay ahead of the ground crumbling behind her. “Trust me, this is just as weird for me.”

“Then let’s chalk it up to one more instance of weird time-crap and get  _ out  _ of here,” Catra said as they started backing off. Just as they turned and hit a full sprint, Adora had gotten her bolas out of its pouch behind her back and hurled it at Catra, binding her and bringing her down with a very familiar yelp. The other Adora moved to untie her, but turned to Adora with her staff ready as she kept advancing.

“Back off!” the other shouted. “I don’t know what your deal is, but ‘me with a staff’ can beat ‘me without a staff’ any day of the week!”

“Sure.” She kept walking, remembering exactly the thrusts she’d used, dodging and deflecting with corresponding ease. It felt unsportsmanlike, not that Adora was complaining. “But I’m sort of cheating here.”

She surged forward and grabbed the staff just as she knew the other Adora would be over-extending. Ordinarily her form would have been perfect, she told herself, but she wrote herself a pass - these were strange circumstances. She pulled her double back and sent her sprawling toward the chasm, where she fumbled to stand or get any stable hold.

Adora approached. “I know you don’t believe me, but I guess I have to say it: this is for the best.” She held out her staff. “Sometimes we need to break a little, before we can see how it all fits.”

The other Adora grabbed the staff. Adora threw it into the abyss.

“Adora!” Catra called out.

“Mm?” Adora turned, surprised for a second at the hate in Catra’s eyes. “Oh, you don’t mean...how to explain this?”

She ran over to Catra and knelt, getting out a knife and starting to cut the lines of the bolas. Catra continued to struggle, and Adora thought she might claw her eyes out as soon as she was free.

“You know, when you found that mask, Catra, it was like the world fell apart,” Adora said as she sawed at the ropes. “Like you took the future we’d imagined and just smashed it. Now I see this and…” Adora looked around at the crumbling ground, the pink eruptions, the burning world. “Well, it’s hard not to feel at least a  _ little  _ validated.”

She cut Catra free, and immediately felt claws rake across her face as Catra bolts out from under her. Adora decided she’d gotten off easy.

“It’s me, Catra,” she said. “I don’t think I have long, and I’m not that clear on what’s going on, but…”

“It’s you?” Catra yelled back, getting into a defensive stance, backing away as she looked uneasily at the collapsing ground behind Adora. “So you get thrown into a rupture in reality, then you pop back out a minute earlier to throw yourself back in?”

Adora stood still, letting Catra back away. “Well it’s been that kind of day, hasn’t it?”

Catra actually laughed. “I guess it has been.”

“This is all my fault, Catra. I saw it. I activated the portal. It was a mistake, but...not an accident.” 

And as she said it now, she felt torn. She could see that final moment, her and Catra and Angella in the void, each of them ready to sacrifice themselves for Etheria. On the one hand, she knew she had a responsibility to pay for this herself, and she knew that if she reached that place, that’s exactly what she would do.

On the other hand, she wasn’t there now. Outside of the noble spirit of that final moment, Adora found herself thinking instead of all she had to live for - all the tomorrows she had to lead the Horde to total victory, to use its technology to usher in an age of progress for all of Etheria, to reconcile with Catra once she had demonstrated the rightness and inevitability of her cause, to savor a well-earned future.

She could only think of that, and how much easier it would all be if the Rebel Queen sacrificed herself instead.

Adora took a step backward.

“Get to Bright Moon, Catra. Get to your friends - they’ll help you finish this. I’ve seen it.”

Now Catra hesitated. “You’re not coming?”

“I’ll see you when you’ve fixed this. You don’t need me.” Adora smiled in genuine pride. “You never have.”

Adora took another step back. The ground gave way under her feet, and she tumbled back, plummeting again into the fire. The last thing Adora was aware of was Catra calling out her name.

  
  


Then Adora was back in Hordak’s lab, the transition so abrupt that her legs could not support her, and she fell. The awareness that she had hands and feet, that she was a creature of three-dimensional space again, came only just in time for her to cushion her fall and land on all fours instead of face-planting.

She almost threw up. This wasn’t like waking from a dream - dreaming is a routine, natural process, and Adora’s little jaunt outside of spacetime was decidedly non-routine. Still, awareness was returning to her, just enough that she was able to look at her surroundings. She expected to see Catra regaining consciousness in a heap where she’d left her, perhaps with the ruins of the portal machine behind them. Instead she saw the portal, open but unstable, its borders fluctuating and emitting a growing high-pitched whine. And Catra was not only upright but towering, the mask sitting crown-like on her head, waves of brown hair cascading down her back, all of her shining with an unearthly radiance.

Adora met Catra’s eyes and sighed in relief. “You did it.”

Catra looked down at her silently. It was hard to tell - the light made it hard to look directly at her in this aspect - but Adora thought Catra was weeping.

The door to the lab blew open. Shadow Weaver and the princess of Bright Moon charged in, hand-in-hand and swathed in the same crackling, shadowy aura.

“Catra, we’re...” Glimmer called out “...oh, you’ve got this, don’t you?”

Adora watched Catra’s reaction. Sure enough, hearing Glimmer seemed to grieve Catra even more.

_ She really did it _ . Adora could not bring herself to smile at the thought, but she allowed herself some guilty satisfaction, at least.

“You’re welcome home whenever you choose to come back. I know you have to go with them now, Catra,” Adora whispered as she got to her feet, still leaning on her staff. “But for their sake, I hope you can talk them into surrendering.”

The portal began to shake and whine at a painful pitch, and Adora ran to the rear of the lab. She heard Catra yelling at Shadow Weaver to release her as she tried to pursue Adora, and then, just as the rear exit of the lab shut behind her, she heard the portal explode.

She kept running, and her mind turned to all she would need to do to cement her claim. There were allies to rally, rivals to deal with, intel she’d need to access and absorb, all before she started the crucial work of revising Hordak’s slipshod campaign into something that would  _ prove _ to the Horde her worthiness to command. She doubted Catra and the princess would pursue - very likely they’d teleported out before the explosion, or exhausted too much of their magic to survive the blast to remain in hostile territory.

She laughed as she ran through the halls of Hordak’s citadel, of  _ her  _ citadel. It felt good to laugh, and it felt good to run, however unnecessary. It hardly seemed like a time to take needless risks.

There was so, so much to do.


	4. A Better Horde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wine was Adora's first mistake.

“You wanted to see me?”

Adora looked up from the mound of papers in front of her. She was sitting at the great round table of Hordak’s war room, a chamber that had gone long unused as the Horde’s top-level planning had fallen into increasing disarray and Hordak had come to rely more and more on Shadow Weaver alone.

“Yes. Have a seat.” Adora pushed the requisition forms she’d been looking at back into their folder, making sure it was the right folder, and then putting that folder back into the right pile. "Scorpia is joining us, too, but I'll bring you up to speed: I've overthrown Hordak, Lonnie. I got rid of him, and I’m taking his place."

She looked at Lonnie very intently, studying her reaction. Judging by the wide-eyed stare and tight-lipped frown Lonnie was giving her, Adora surmised that her reaction was shocked horror.

“That’s not funny, Adora.”

“No. It’s scary. But it happened.” Adora motioned at a chair near her at the table. “Really, sit.”

Still visibly shaken, Lonnie eventually came and sat.

“This is a test, isn’t it?” Lonnie asked. “Like, Hordak’s trying to see who he can count on, so he’s set up a stunt to see how we react? Well, ha ha, real funny, but I ain’t buying it.”

Adora raised her eyebrow.

“You want to know what I think? If he wants this kind of thing to work, he ought to get one of the other Force Captains to run it. No offense, Adora, you’re great, but you’re a little too rule-followy for, like, treason. I’m not saying you’re a pushover or anything, just that it’s a little hard to believe that...”

Adora smirked. She did not mean for it to be unsettling or frightening, but there must have been something about it because Lonnie saw that smile and just stopped. Adora let the silence between them breathe for a moment before she went on.

“Hordak would never do something like that. He was too reactive - he’d always try to punish people who failed or betrayed him, but he never cared about building loyalty on its own. It’s one of many things I’m going to change.” She slid a tiny metal object over to Lonnie, who caught it and held it up to the light.

Lonnie put it back on the table and looked back at Adora, more suspicious than ever.

“What is this?” Lonnie asked.

“A Force Captain pin, obviously.”

“Yeah, _obviously_ , but what are you doing right now? What’s happening?”

“Hordak never left any kind of instructions for succession. The Horde was just a means to a personal end for him, so he didn’t care what would happen to it if he went away. Other captains are going to think they deserve the throne just because they’ve been around longer. If I’m going to make my bid stick, I’m going to need people I can trust.” Adora said. She held up a hand as Lonnie started to object. “We grew up together on good terms. We trained as a unit together for years. I want you in my corner, Lonnie. And importantly, no one else will trust you, because they’ll all assume you’re backing me anyway.” She pushed away from the table and approached Lonnie. She reached over Lonnie’s shoulders, picked up the pin, and affixed it to Lonnie’s shirt. “I trust you, Force Captain, to accept that.”

Lonnie looked at the pin.

“Mmm. Okay, maybe I was wrong about you. I’ve got _chills_.”

Adora would not allow herself an actual sigh of relief, but she felt some tension leave her body. She felt confident with how this meeting would go, but still, she’d let Lonnie in on a big secret by telling her the truth about Hordak - it would not do for her to turn Adora down now.

“So I can count you in?”

“Well who the hell else am I gonna back? _Kyle?_ ”

They shared a laugh. Good, good - this was going well. Adora walked over to a refreshment cart she’d brought in for this meeting. She’d found some wine among Shadow Weaver’s things, and though she’d never tasted wine herself, she associated it with the privilege of the elite.

“Good. I knew I could count on you.”

In Adora’s mind, she then unscrewed the cap of the wine bottle, poured them each a glass, and proposed a classy toast to the new order. The bottle did not have a screw cap, though, nor a bottlecap, nor any other sort of stoppage she’d ever seen. She looked down and saw that someone had jammed a small piece of soft wood or something into the mouth of the bottle.

_Is this a joke?_

“We’ve...got a lot to go over. We’ll start once Scorpia gets here.” She scratched ineffectually at the wooden blockage in the bottle, trying to get some purchase on it to pull it out, but it was really lodged in there good.

“Do you need some…”

“I wanted to tell you the truth about Hordak. I want our relationship now to be based on honesty and trust, but the official story, by the way...” Adora continued, refusing to let this bottle take the wind out of her sails. She took a knife out from her belt and jammed the thin blade into the wood. “...is that Hordak just left. He took a broken ship and left the planet to try to find his people. It was desperate, a reflection of his own instability, and we shouldn’t expect to see him again.” She turned the blade, feeling encouraged to see the wooden blockage turn with it, but when she pulled up, the blade simply slid out without moving the blockage out at all.

“Adora, really, do you…”

“I guess we should talk about Kyle, too,” Adora said. She’d planned to bring this up later but she was desperate for a change in topic. “I’m keeping Rogelio in your unit so you can look out for each other, but I’m taking Kyle off combat duty. He’s worth more to me as a secretary than he is as a soldier. I mean, look at all this.” She gestured at the piles of records, requisitions, communiques, and other documents, barely sorted out in Shadow Weaver’s insufficient organizational system. Lonnie looked at the pile, and with Lonnie’s gaze shifted, Adora quickly slapped the side of the wine bottle a few times.

“That’s a good call. I like Kyle, but...” Lonnie looked back up at Adora. “...Adora, have you never taken out a cork before?”

Adora put the bottle down and frowned at Lonnie. Fully aware that this was more about her frustration with the bottle and the weirdness of the day in general, Adora said, “I don’t want to be pain in the ass about titles, but I’ve worked hard for my new one, Force Captain. I want people to use it.”

Lonnie looked at her a moment, then nodded slightly. “Sorry. _Lord_ Adora, have you never taken out a cork before?”

“I mean, sure, I’ve taken out acorks plenty of times, I just…” She met Lonnie’s unimpressed stare. “No, I have not.”

Lonnie waved forward to Adora. “Give it here. I’m guessing you don’t have a corkscrew, but Rogelio had a technique. Oh - sir or ma’am?”

Adora handed the bottle over. “Ma’am. Lonnie, we had pretty much the same childhood. When were you guys figuring out wine?”

To Adora’s great confusion, Lonnie held the bottle upside down between her legs, took off one of her boots, and began slapping the underside of the bottle with the boot. “Sorry, ma’am, this takes a minute. And I don’t know what you and Catra were doing on your sleepovers, but now you know what our crew was doing. If you want the scoop on your new secretary: Kyle is a _blast_ after a few.”

“...good to know.” Adora waited a second, but Lonnie kept hammering at the bottle. Without any indication of how long this was supposed to take, she tried to press on. “I wanted to be honest with you, but no one can know that I took Hordak out myself. As far as everyone else in the world is concerned, he’s just off in space, never coming back.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am.” _Thwap, thwap_ . “Mind if I ask why?” _Thwap_.

“We need Entrapta. She’s advancing Horde tech practically by the hour, but she had a bond with Hordak so…”

“No, I mean, why all of this? Why overthrow Hordak? You just think you can do better?” _Thwap_.

Adora pictured a smoking village. She was standing in the rubble, holding out her hand to Catra; and Catra looked back, looked around them, looked at the violence of the Horde, of _Hordak’s_ Horde, and turned away from it.

 _Thwap_.

Adora reached and snatched the bottle away.

“Absolutely,” she said.

The door slid open. It was Scorpia, looking weary and carrying an enclosed cage, shaking violently and hissing as it dangled from her claw. Adora nodded with approval as she noted Hordak’s imp shaking at the bars from within.

“Oh, Lonnie! I didn’t expect you to be here.” Scorpia looked around, trying for half a second to hide the cage behind her back before she realized how ridiculously futile that was. “Oh, this? I’m just taking the little tyke to the, uh, vet? Yeah, yeah, gotta’ get his check-up, little guy, due for his rabies shot I think, but clearly I’m in the wrong room for that so…”

Adora sighed wearily. “I told her, Scorpia. She’s up to speed.”

Lonnie was staring at the cage, slightly wide-eyed. She’d believed Adora, but seeing proof that Hordak was gone and that his pet and spy could be treated with such impunity was another thing. Scorpia put the cage down, and though the imp continued to rage at the bars, it was clearly running out of steam.

“Oh, good. Because I do not think I was selling anyone on that. Oh, is that wine? That is a _fantastic_ idea.” Scorpia sounded just a little desperate, and Adora didn't object as Scorpia took the bottle in one claw.

"We don't have a…"

Before Adora could say "corkscrew," Scorpia's tail darted out, and she was pouring glasses with the cork impaled on her stinger.

“Man. This has been a _day_.” Scorpia passed the glasses out and fell into a seat. Adora realized she and Lonnie were both looking at her. She realized what they were waiting for, and she stood, reviewing her mental notes for this speech.

“The next few weeks are going to be hard,” she said. “But it’s going to be worth it. Our enemies, both in here and out there, fight for the past. Our rivals in the Horde worry that we will lead them away from Hordak’s flawed vision, and they are right to worry. Hordak led a needlessly brutal war to achieve a meaningless conquest, hoping to make this planet a gift to his master and then wash his hands of it. We will do what Hordak never could: not just conquer Etheria, but unite it, govern it, improve it.

“And our rivals in the Rebellion worry that the Horde will throw them out of power, and they’re right to worry. The princesses only keep power through their mystic birthrights, unearned and unshared. They use that power to keep the world stuck in the past, in a system that has resisted progress for centuries. We will do what the princesses never could, ringing in a new age of technology for all of Etheria, a world where each person’s worth will be dictated by their merits, not by destiny or bloodline.”

Lonnie smirked at Scorpia and whispered, just audibly: “ _Chills,_ right?”

Adora held up her glass.

“To a better Horde.”

The others held up their glasses. “A better Horde.”

They drank.

Adora wrinkled her nose a little. Had the wine gone bad? Looking at the others - at Scorpia in particular, draining her glass quickly and pouring another - she decided this must just be what wine was like.

Disappointedly wishing she just had something sweet instead, Adora opened a folder and started laying out her plans.


	5. The Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer and Catra have a moment.

All things considered, it was quiet in Bright Moon. Guard patrols had been doubled, scouts and messengers came in almost hourly with news from different fronts, and the castle was bustling with representatives from other kingdoms, but still.

It was quiet for a coronation.

“I see the wisdom in the decision, your highness, but a proper celebration would be a boost for morale,” Casta said. She walked alongside Glimmer as the new queen walked to her next briefing, Bow and Melog keeping pace a step behind them, and a troop of bodyguards following close behind. “The people need something to take their minds off the war.”

“The Horde is launching raiding parties all across the frontiers, testing our defenses. Adora’s getting ready for something," Glimmer said. "If she attacks while we're distracted with a party, we’ll be sorry we took our minds off the war."

A party also felt like the very last thing Glimmer wanted at the moment.

“I do understand that.” Casta looked crestfallen all the same. “Still and all, you’ll need to do some parts of the traditional ceremony. If the Horde really is planning an offensive soon, it’s all the more important that you complete the Queen’s Quest as soon as possible.”

“We  _ are _ good at quests!” Bow said. Melog grunted in what Glimmer took as approval. The creature had hardly left Catra's side since her first transformation had summoned it, not voluntarily at least, but lately Melog had been following Glimmer around on her own. Bow had guessed it reflected how Catra wanted to be alone, but she also wanted to be there for her friends.

Glimmer frowned. “A quest sounds like a lot.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad. From what I’ve read, you don’t even have to leave Bright Moon. The important thing is that the Quest ritual connects you fully to the Moonstone. We can always delay a proper coronation ball for more peaceful times, but you need that power now more than ever.”

“Fine, fine. We’ll do the Quest. Bow, when do we have time?”

Bow flipped through a notepad. “You’ve got half an hour this afternoon between a strategy session and dinner. How long will do you think this will take?”

Casta frowned distastefully. “The Quest of Queens is an ancient rite undergone by all the queens of Bright Moon since antiquity. It is not something you squeeze in before dinner.”

Bow flipped through a few more pages of the notepad. “You’re free tomorrow morning. I’ll write it in for 5:00.”

Glimmer groaned just audibly.

“...5:30?”

“No, 5:00 is fine.” Bow made a note. It wasn’t like she’d been sleeping great, anyway. Not since they’d come back from the Fright Zone. “Is this something I have to do alone, Aunt Casta?”

“Oh, no! A queen is nothing without her subjects and allies. From my reading, it’s quite traditional for a queen to bring her closest friends and associates along on the Quest, for protection and companionship.”

“You can count on me and Catra!” Bow said, making further notes on his pad. He looked at Melog, who looked up at Glimmer with a little feline chirp. “Though actually, I have no idea where Catra is.”

Glimmer frowned down at the cat. Catra hadn’t been a recluse, exactly - she’d been there for Glimmer the first few days after they got back, and after that Glimmer had been too busy with the affairs of the kingdom and the transition to see anybody much. If Bow wasn’t seeing her much either, that was more concerning.

Melog brushed up against her.

“Bow, what is this next meeting we’re going to again?”

“It’s with one of Mermista’s aides, going over import and export numbers.”

That was probably important. As hard as it was to keep track of all the information that kept coming her way and as dull as some of it was, she knew it was also the business of running a kingdom and leading a war, so she couldn’t complain.

“UGGGHH.” Okay, she couldn’t complain  _ much _ . “Bow, take good notes and fill me in later. Casta, let’s talk more about the coronation later. Guards...um...sorry?”

She put a hand on Melog’s back. Thankfully she’d read the cat’s intentions right, and they both faded out of sight. Her honor guard looked around in shock, Casta frowned deeply, and Bow gave a thumbs up.

They sped off, Glimmer keeping a hand on Melog all the while. This invisibility effect didn’t strictly require contact, but if she was reading the situation right, Melog was leading her to Catra, and keeping contact with him made sense considering she couldn’t actually see the cat or herself anymore.

Though a few minutes later found her at the door of Catra’s bedroom. The invisibility field dropped, and she looked down quizzically at Melog.

“A little obvious for a secret hiding place, don’t you think?” Melog looked up and cocked her head. Glimmer knocked on the door. “Catra? It’s me.” There was no response. After a moment, Glimmer opened the door and started poking around in the different parts of the room Catra could usually be found - under the bed, on top of the bookcase, behind the sofa, in the laundry hamper.

Melog grunted. Glimmer looked over and saw the cat jump up on one of the windowsills, look over at her to make sure she was looking, then crawled out the window, reached up, and climbed out of sight.

“Oh, come on!”

She had run out of magic enough times in enough perilous situations that she had some experience climbing, but a sheer hillside here or the exterior of a Horde fort there were one thing. As she got out on the windowsill and pulled herself up onto its sculpted exterior, she decided climbing the glittering walls of Bright Moon castle on her own was another thing altogether. She followed anyway, but regretted her decision almost immediately. 

“Should have…” she panted, holding on with white knuckles to the side of the castle, urging herself not to look down. “...should have brought a rope.”

Melog looked down at her from a fixture a few feet above her and mewed encouragingly. Glimmer hoped she was reading the creature correctly - Melog offered insight into Catra’s feelings, but didn’t exactly come with a guide book on how to interpret those insights. It would be a real shame if Glimmer fell to her death and the Bright Moon dynasty abruptly ended because a funky space cat just wanted to play hide-and-seek.

She pulled herself up and slowly, cautiously got to her feet. Melog trotted over the roof and toward a nearby tower, and Glimmer followed with carefully chosen steps. The smooth, shining facade of the castle looked very impressive, but it made walking around up here a very slippery proposition. She got to the base of the tower after a few minutes, hoping to see Catra sulking there, but then Melog leapt up and began precariously climbing the structure.

“Oh  _ son of a _ ...” Glimmer tentatively tried to follow, finding what seemed like a good handhold to start her ascent. Her grip immediately failed, her hand sliding off the smooth limestone and her feet very nearly sliding right off the roof altogether.

“Okay, no. Catra!” Glimmer called up the tower. “Catra, are you up there, and can you just come down for a minute? I don’t want to die like this!”

Catra poked her head out from the roof of the tower overhead.

“Oh. Hey, Glimmer. Be right down.”

Like Melog, Catra moved with infuriating grace down the sheer stones - even outside of her She-Ra form, she was capable of truly impressive gymnastics. Though once Catra got down to her level, Glimmer saw that she looked like crap.

“You look like crap,” Glimmer said.

Catra rolled her eyes. “Thanks.” She sat down on the relatively flat roofing, her back to the tower. She pulled her knees against her chest and her tail around her feet. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Glimmer sat down next to her, glad to not have to balance anymore. She didn’t believe that insomnia was the whole problem, but she wasn’t going to press it. “I don’t want to intrude. But there’s this quest I guess I have to do tomorrow, something about connecting me to the Moonstone. I wanted to see if you’d come with me.”

“Of course!” Catra sounded sincere, but she frowned and turned her head a little away from Glimmer. Glimmer felt Melog nuzzling in, laying her head in Gimmer’s lap. “I’m sorry. My head hasn’t been in the game lately.”

Glimmer wanted to just ask her what was wrong, and keep refusing the “Nothing!” and “I don’t want to talk about it!” that she’d surely get in response until Catra spewed it, but Bow had always urged how important boundaries were for Catra. So they sat there for a minute, neither of them saying anything, Melog purring softly in Glimmer’s lap.

Catra eventually sighed. “Do you remember when I ate in the dining room the first time, the night I first got here?”

Glimmer snorted a little. There had been a plate of sauteed trout going around; Catra, having tried barely any real food in her life and certainly never any fish, had taken one bite and then grabbed the serving tray from the kitchen maid and gobbled down the rest, handful by handful, before anyone else got any. “I remember thinking it was really cute at the time. I was glad something like food could make you so happy, and I don’t like trout anyway. It was a little less cute when mom had the kitchen make that same dish, like, every other day after that.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Catra was smiling, but her eyes were damp. “I didn’t realize that she did that for a while. I thought you always just had the same stuff all the time, but no. She...did that for me.” Catra bit her lip. “I’m sorry. This is dumb. You don’t need this, I’m sorry, I’m…”

Glimmer scooted closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t stop feeling this way. I only knew her a couple of years. She wasn’t my mom, she was yours, and you’re down there taking care of business and I’m just sulking and making this about me instead of being there for you and…”

Glimmer closed her eyes against the tears and fought to keep her composure. “It’s okay, Catra.”

Catra turned, put her arms around Glimmer, and pressed her face into Glimmer’s shoulder. Glimmer hugged her back. Tiny sobs shook them both.

“The fish, my room, even just the way she’d ask me how I was doing...she  _ welcomed  _ me, Glimmer. My whole life I tried to convince people I was worth having around, then your mom meets me, just  _ meets  _ me, and, and…”

Glimmer squeezed Catra close. She didn’t hold back the tears now. She spoke through sobs.

“Catra, it’s okay to feel bad.”

“But…”

“Everyone down there is acting like nothing happened.” She took a second to get her ragged breathing back under control. “They’re acting like I’m the queen now and everything’s just back to normal, and they’re expecting me to be strong, but...she was my mom, Catra. It’s the biggest day of my life, and it’s only happening because my mom’s…”

The word “gone” stuck in her throat.

“That’s why I didn’t just teleport up here. I haven’t been recharging. If I do, I’ll take the whole power of the Moonstone, and that’ll mean she’s really…”

They sat there like that for a long time, Melog curled in front of them. It was the first time Glimmer had let herself cry that week. It was the first time she’d ever seen Catra cry, at least without breaking something at the same time. Eventually Glimmer could feel Catra purring against her shoulder, less a reflection of her contentment and more an attempt to calm herself down.

There were a lot of little things Glimmer felt she could say - “You still have me,” or “My mom loved you, and so do I,” or weirdly “I’m glad you’re crying because it feels like you’re giving me permission to cry too and apparently I needed that, the crying and the permission, does that make sense?” But she decided that would just cheapen this moment.

And once Adora started her offensive, moments like this would be hard to come by.


	6. Too Much Kyle

Octavia didn’t like it.

She was pretty sure Adora was in charge of the Horde now. It was all very hush-hush and unofficial, but no one had seen Hordak for weeks; Adora still acted like she was being a dutiful second-in-command and that she gave orders as Hordak’s will, but that convinced exactly no one. There was a rumor going around that Hordak had fled to outer space when the portal failed, but Octavia didn’t buy that either. Among the other Force Captains, the only open questions were how Adora had taken Hordak down, when she would declare herself openly, and what should be done about it.

And that, frankly, didn’t concern Octavia much. Some of the troops seemed to look to Octavia as a likely successor to Hordak, based purely on how long she’d been around, but she’d just been around long enough to know what a headache it was to run the Horde. None of that for her, thank you very much. But Adora - she’d trained Adora from childhood, and while she’d never exactly liked the girl, she’d always known Adora was special. Underneath the friendly, sometimes goofy facade, Adora had a deep well of cunning and determination, and Octavia liked to think she’d done her part to nurture that. The thorough grooming by Shadow Weaver had to count for something, too. It was an unpopular opinion, but Octavia kind of liked the idea of Adora in charge.

She looked out at the skiffs racing alongside her own, five in all, inbound to raid a Rebel outpost on the edges of Plumeria. Her gaze landed on Lonnie, standing on the next skiff over, looking right back at her.

No, what Octavia didn’t like was how Adora’s newest Force Captain was looking at her. In the mission briefing, at the muster hall, and as they traveled to their destination - she’d looked over her shoulder and frequently found Lonnie smirking at her like Octavia was a tasty snack someone had carelessly left out.

Rogelio walked up to Lonnie and said something that made her nod. She touched her Force Captain pin, and Octavia could hear her through her own pin.

“Ten minutes out,” Lonnie said. “You sure you’re up for this, grannie?”

Octavia touched a finger to her own pin. “I know you haven’t been active very long, kid, but if you think a mission like this is unusual, you’re in for a rough transition. If you have trouble, just remember they’re princess-worshipers - they wouldn’t treat you any better if they had a chance.”

Lonnie let her communicator shut off. She said something else to Rogelio, who looked over at Octavia. Lonnie said something else, and they both laughed.

_The hell is so funny?_

Lonnie hit her pin again. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks!”

Octavia scowled. Probably this was some misguided urge to prove herself by poking at a more experienced officer’s patience. Well, Octavia bet she’d be a lot less snarky in a few hours. A Captain’s first massacre usually had that effect.

  
  


The operation went off smoothly. Their intel had been good, estimating the size of the town and the strength of its defenses nearly exactly. A local healer had been known to treat wounded Rebels returning from missions, and several families had sent children or supplies off to fight the Horde - which was to say, Brambleton was a target of very nearly no strategic value on its own. Ordinarily that would have been their main defense, just the simple fact that the Horde had no practical reason to bother with an out-of-the-way village with few resources and little contribution to the Rebellion. Adora had been launching random raids for a few weeks, though, to test the Rebel’s defenses, demoralize its people, and encourage them to spread their defenses too thin. As such, there was indeed a small contingent of Rebel soldiers deployed just in case of a raid.

It was not enough.

Within half an hour of the skiffs speeding into town, there were about a hundred prisoners, maybe twenty of them actual soldiers and another twenty who had taken up arms, but the rest were no threat to anyone: smiths, stablehands, a tavern-owner and her wife, a smattering of children and geezers. Octavia’s soldiers had moved them into the central square of the town, crowding them against the broad wall of the town meeting hall.

A hundred prisoners, then, but that wasn’t quite accurate. Adora had been very specific.

There would be no prisoners.

Octavia whistled one loud note, and the Horde soldiers began to cautiously draw away from the crowd, weapons ready in case any of the Rebels tried to make a break for it. As the soldiers withdrew, the bots moved in to take their place. It would be the bots who did the actual slaughter, not the soldiers - a minor distinction to some, maybe, but just enough to help the grunts sleep a little better at night knowing they hadn’t killed helpless men and women themselves.

She noted that Lonnie was nowhere to be found at the moment. Octavia huffed out a disgusted little chuckle. It figured - she talked a good game and she’d helped take the town, but when push came to shove, Lonnie apparently had no stomach for the real work of the Horde.

Octavia strode forward, stopping just outside the encroaching circle of bots. The Rebels backed away from them, the bravest standing protectively between the old and cowardly as if any of them had any control over the situation.

“Rebel scum,” Octavia shouted. “If you were smart enough to keep around, you would have stayed out of this war. Instead, you’ve given aid and comfort to the enemies of the Horde. Folks like you, we let you go, and you’ll just go around setting a bad example for others.”

A few people in the crowd started screaming. Some held each other, others just froze. One, a woman with deer-like features, had enough fight left in her to break from the group and charge right at Octavia, and that was good - it always helped pacify the crowd if someone demonstrated what happened to people who put up a fight. The woman only got a few steps before two bots locked onto her. Lasers flashed with a crack of superheated air. The woman fell. More people started screaming.

“You see? No sense.” Octavia shook her head. “Kill them all.”

Still more screaming. The air filled with the shrill sound of pure animal panic.

The bots, however, were not firing. Octavia looked up at them. It was always frustrating to build up a moment and then have it all fall flat. She kicked the leg of the bot next to her.

“Did I stutter? Bots, kill! Execute! Open fire!”

Nothing.

Octavia huffed. She looked around, and saw Lonnie had finally decided to show up, standing a few paces behind with Rogelio and a small band of Horde goons beside her.

“Well don’t just stand there!” Octavia pointed at the panicking prisoners. “Looks like we’ve got technical difficulties, so we’re doing this the old fashioned way.”

Lonnie didn’t move for a moment, just leveling that same smirk at Octavia. She saw Rogelio was holding a slate, of exactly the kind one would use to issue manual orders to bots.

“Force Captain Octavia,” Lonnie said, her tone mocking, knowing. “I just saw you try to murder these people.”

Octavia was suddenly acutely aware that she was stuck between bots who wouldn’t listen to her, prisoners she’d just tried to kill, and a Force Captain who seemed to know something important that Octavia didn’t.

“That’s not how we do things anymore, granny,” Lonnie said. “Adora warned you.”

Adora had actually explicitly ordered these killings, as Lonnie knew perfectly well. Octavia narrowed her eyes.

“What’s the play here, Lonnie?”

But Lonnie just smiled.

Octavia had had enough. She waved to a few of her squads, standing outside the circle of bots.

“Mutiny! Mu-”

Rogelio pressed a button. The two bots next to Octavia glanced at her, and she cried out as low-powered shots singed her and overloaded her nervous system. She fell, still conscious but unable to move as her body twitched uncontrollably.

“By Lord Adora’s authority, I’m placing you under arrest for crimes against humanity,” Lonnie said, loud enough for all to hear. A few of her goons came forward with several sets of manacles, enough for her arms and legs and tentacles.

 _They brought enough cuffs for me_ . Octavia winced as she was restrained and hauled to her feet. _They were ready for this_.

The goons pulled Octavia off, and Lonnie held up a hand as they passed her. They stopped to let Lonnie look in Octavia’s still-paralyzed face.

“This is nothing personal. You get that, right?” she said, now keeping her voice down. Her conspiratorial, ‘between-us-two-chums’ tone made Octavia want to murder Lonnie even more than the physical betrayal. “Yeah, you get it. And since you asked: the play is ‘out with old, in with the new.’”

Lonnie nodded off behind her, and the guards dragged Octavia away.

“Whoever’s in charge of this town, meet me in there.” Lonnie pointed at the gathering hall. “Lord Adora has a proposition for you.”

  
  


“And then I said ‘It’s out with the old, in with the new!’” Lonnie said, smiling on Adora’s screen. Adora was sitting in the war room, Kyle taking notes beside her as they both looked up at the comm screen. “Oh, she was so pissed! You should have seen it.”

“Very good, Force Captain,” Adora said. “And the village?”

“We’re bringing in the confirmed Rebel soldiers. We let the others go as ordered, and gave them the pitch. They’re on-board for now, but I’ve got to say, they didn’t seem too thrilled. I think they just took the deal because they were too scared to say no.”

Yes, she’d been hearing a lot of that. Adora had instructed Lonnie and a few of her other Captains to start using the carrot more than the stick - leaving towns mostly in-tact and populated and offering them protectorate status, promising food, tech, and protection as long as they renounced their princess and withheld any aid from the Princess Alliance. The idea was to show a gentler side of the Horde, making it look like an attractive alternative to the princesses rather than a frightening enemy. So far, from what she’d been hearing, the villages just saw the new Horde as more interested in taking hostages than in killing people.

“They’ll come around. Good work, Lonnie. Report back to the Fright Zone tomorrow.”

Lonnie saluted. “Ma’am.”

The screen went dark. Adora turned to Kyle. “Write up a statement condemning Octavia. Respectfully acknowledge her years of service and express regret that her career ends like this, but be forceful about how there is no excuse for war crimes.”

Kyle held up a paper. “Can I just reuse the one I wrote about Grizzlor?”

“No. But that’s good thinking - mention how she should have known better.”

“Got it.” He made a note, then fixed his eyes on his notes in a way that made it look more like he was just trying not to look at her. Kyle was a good secretary for the most part, but she’d noticed he had a frightful inability to keep troubling thoughts bottled up. There was something to be said for a confidante who would always tell her what he was really thinking, but she felt uneasy trusting him with state secrets.

“Out with it, Kyle.”

“Didn’t you...order Octavia to…”

Adora sighed. “We’ve been over this. Do I need to show you how to change the records?”

“No, no, I know how to change them. It’s just confusing when you tell Octavia one thing and Lonnie another, and I have to figure out which one we’re calling official and which one we’re covering up. Could we, like...oh, could you wink?”

Adora stared at him.

“Yeah, like, when you’re giving someone orders that are really just a setup that I should edit out of the record later, you could give me a little wink so I know.”

Adora kept staring. Kyle gave her a little example wink just so she’d know what he was talking about. Adora’s eye twitched in irritation.

“If you can’t keep up, Kyle, I’ll find someone who can.”

“I just still don’t understand _why_ , though. Octavia was…”

“Kyle.” Adora took a deep, calming breath in. “You’re an assistant, not an advisor. You’re here to keep me organized, not to understand and advise on strategy.”

The look of disappointment on Kyle’s face was too much for her.

She sighed, loud and a little obnoxiously. “It’s killing two birds with one stone, okay? My rivals in the Horde will think twice before they make a move on me, now that they’ve seen how easily I can take down even senior Captains like Grizzlor and Octavia. At the same time, the rest of Etheria sees me taking down senior Force Captains for war crimes, and they’ll take me seriously when I say we’re not the old Horde anymore.”

“Oh.” Kyle thought it over. “That’s really smart. But...if you’re actually ordering those war crimes...” He thought it over some more, and apparently reached no question he was comfortable asking. “What happens if they lie to us?”

“Who?”

“These protectorate villages. I’ve seen the numbers. We’re sending out a ton of stuff to them. Which I get! We’ve got to show them the Horde’s as great as we know it is, but...what happens if a lot of villages say they’re not going to help the princesses, then take our supplies, and then help the princesses anyway?”

“Well, that would be betrayal, wouldn’t it?” Adora steepled her fingers and thought. She’d wrestled with exactly this question, and as much as she wanted to showcase the Horde’s new gentle and generous side, there obviously had to be limits to that. “We would have to show the world what happens to people who spit in the Horde’s face when it offers them friendship. It’s not pretty, but if we go easy on them, others will just follow suit. I want to use the carrot as much as we can, but people can’t forget we still have the stick.”

A long moment passed.

“Got it,” Kyle said.

“Good.”

Another moment.

Kyle held up another paper. “But what about Catra? There’s the order here that she’s only to be taken alive, and if she surrenders she’s to be pardoned, and…” Kyle shut up. He saw something on Adora’s face that told him this was not a wise course of questioning. “OK, nevermind. Hey, it’s time for your meeting with Scorpia. She apparently found an asset in the Valley of the Lost that has to be seen to be believed.”

“She didn’t say anything about that when she called.” Adora reached over and picked up a folder of communications, looking over the transcript of Scorpia’s call just to confirm she wasn’t crazy. “Did she talk to you behind my back?”

Kyle gave her a confident, decidedly un-Kyle smile. “Oh, you could say that.”

The door of the war room swung open, and in walked Scorpia, Entrapta...and Kyle.

In a moment, Adora had shot to her feet, Scorpia was looking embarrassed, the Kyle who just walked in nearly fainted with confusion, and Entrapta nearly fainted with excitement.

“Aw geez, I’m sorry, this...they slipped away, this wasn’t how I was planning to tell you about this,” Scorpia was saying.

“FASCINATING!” Entrapta said. Her hair grabbed a fixture over the war room table and swung her clean across the room, landing her right next to the Kyle Adora had been talking to. “Two completely identical Kyles! Is one of you a clone? A refugee from a parallel universe? Is the similarity just surface-level or does it go all the way down to your genes?”

As a follow-up to this last question, tendrils of her hair brought out hypodermic needles, sample vials, and various other collection tools.

Adora was significantly less excited, looking from one Kyle to the other, trying to figure out which was her secretary and which was a stranger that had slipped past all her defenses right to the heart of her empire. Until they could sort it out, both Kyles were liabilities.

“Scorpia, subdue him,” she said, nodding at the Kyle who’d just walked in as she turned and sprang at the Kyle sitting next to her. She immediately realized this one was the fake - she'd trained with Kyle for years, and this doppelganger had much faster reactions, dodging to the side with serpentine grace as Adora came in for a grapple. He stepped up a chair behind him and hopped up onto the table, springing up over the pile of paperwork, and standing tall in the center of the table.

“You know what?” Scorpia said, cradling her Kyle, paralyzed in her arms after a quick sting. “I think that’s the fake one.”

“Please,” said the Kyle on the table, spreading his arms. “Hold your applause.”

And he changed. His clothes and body darkened, blackened, until he was like a silhouette standing right beneath the lights. Then, with a sound of rearranging bones and stretching skin, the silhouette shifted, growing leaner and taller. Where an exact double of Kyle had been standing a moment earlier there was now a tall, lithe reptile, smiling at Adora with sharp teeth and yellow eyes.

“Enter: Double Trouble,” they said with a bow.

“Now, don’t be mad, Adora. They came here with me from the Crimson Waste, and...”

Entrapta screamed. “A _shapeshifter!_ ” She vaulted up onto the table, some hair tendrils taking measurements of how much their proportions had changed and others recording those measurements and others standing by with the sample kits. “Ohhhhhh. Is this genetic, or magical, or do you use some kind of tech? Are you a natural species or engineered? Can you alter your own mass, too, or just proportions, and can you alter even fine detail like fingerprints and retinal patterns or…”

“ _Entrapta.”_ Entrapta looked down at Adora, who was now holding a stun rod. “As exciting as this is, please back away. We don’t know what this creature is.”

“I’m whatever you need me to be, darling!” They changed again, and now Adora looked up at a double of Scorpia. Another change, and they were a double of Adora herself. Another, and it was Hordak himself standing on the table, glowering down at them.

Entrapta hadn’t really calmed down when Adora snapped at her, but now the change was immediate. Entrapta took a confused step back, her hair and her tools pulling away at once. She looked down and away.

“Very impressive. Whatever shape you take, though, you still trespassed on a classified meeting.” The end of Adora’s stun rod sparked. “I don’t like being spied on.”

“No? But here you are making yourself the center of attention!” Double Trouble resumed their reptilian form. “Scorpia wanted me to make a nice, polite introduction, but no one ever landed a role with just an interview. You need an audition.” They smiled. “How’d I do?”

“I was thinking they could be useful in spying on the princesses!” Scorpia said, trying to gently maneuver Kyle into a seat.

“And can we just reflect on how thoroughly sold you were?” Double Trouble knelt down, bringing their face down to Adora’s level, seemingly aware of how ready Adora was to lash out with the rod and bring them down. “You didn’t have a doubt in your mind I was really Kyle, a boy you’ve known your whole life, and in a few minutes you were handing me all sorts of secrets about your strategies, and insights into your...motivations.”

They blinked at her, their face close enough that only Adora could see their eyes change: one gold, and one blue. They winked, and then their eyes changed back.

“All I’m asking for is a chance, darling! My rates are high, but top dollar gets you top talent.”

It was, Adora had to admit, a pretty convincing presentation. She lowered the stun rod.

“Think of it: eyes and ears right in the heart of the Princess Alliance, gaining their trust all the while. They’d act out whatever script you want and they wouldn’t even know it.”

“You can stop the pitch. I’m willing to give you a shot.” She looked up at the big screen, still showing the map of all the towns and villages they’d been trying, with such mixed success, to lure away from the princesses. It wasn’t enough to crush the princesses - if the people of Etheria still viewed the Horde as dangerous invaders, they would continue to resist long after the last princess had been toppled.

“But you’re not going to be spying.” Something was beginning to take shape in her mind. She nodded to herself and smiled. “I’ve got a better idea.”


	7. An Unexpected Invitation

“The Horde is still preparing for a major offensive. From what I’ve seen, they’re prepping not only a massive army of bots, but also enough vehicles and equipment to outfit a very large infantry force.” Juliet motioned at the table, and the images switched from the strategic map view to pictures of amassed tanks and shipment crates of weapons and armor being loaded up in the Fright Zone.

It was a small council meeting, just Juliet, a small complement of guards, and the Best Friend Squad. Bow looked closer at the pictures, impressed. “Whoa - where are we getting these pics from?”

Catra frowned. “Yeah. If we had scouts going right into the Fright Zone, I would have gone with them. Would have helped to have someone who grew up there, right?”

Glimmer smiled. “I’m not at liberty to share the identity of our very brave and talented scout, but it looks like she managed on her own.”

Catra growled a little. “Glimmer! You can’t…” Bow elbowed her, noting the glare Glimmer was giving her. “OK - not the time.”

Glimmer motioned for Juliet to continue.

“We’re still trying to figure out where and when they will strike and how to prepare, but one of the other questions that’s bothering us is those infantry supplies. The numbers they’re producing and shipping out suggest a much larger force than we thought the Horde could field.”

Bow stroked his chin. “Entrapta’s been with them over a year now. We could be dealing with clones, or humanoid bots, or aliens brought in from a stable portal, or who knows what else.”

“Entrapta is certainly an x-factor, but I think we’re dealing with something more mundane.” Juliet motioned again, and the purple holograms on the table shifted back into a map of the continent. The Fright Zone sat as a great red blotch, and all around it, on the outskirts of the free kingdoms, dozens of red Horde flags materialized. “Adora has been putting on a show of ‘reforming’ the Horde, trying to coax the locals in their conquered territories into siding with them. She thinks she can recruit our own people against us, and she’s ready to outfit them.”

Glimmer looked slightly disgusted. “If she thinks regular folks are going to turn on us to support the Horde of all people, she’s stupider than I took her for. She’s taken all that Horde propaganda too seriously.”

Catra looked over the map with concern. “No. She’s smarter than that. She knows you’re not the monsters we were taught you are, and she knows the world isn’t crying out for freedom from the princesses.”

“So why is she fighting at all?” Bow asked.

“Uh, because she’s a psycho bitch?” Glimmer suggested. Bow frowned, and Catra’s hair stood up slightly as she glared.

“Adora’s not crazy,” Catra said.

“What? Should I be more respectful of the woman trying to take over the world?”

“Call her whatever you want, but don’t underestimate her. Adora’s not crazy, or stupid, or blind, and if you think she is she’s going to wipe the floor with us.”

“And yet you don’t like me training with the same woman who trained Adora to be so capable?” Glimmer asked.

“Are we  _ really _ doing this right now?” Catra asked. “You want me to get my list of all the reasons we can’t trust Shadow Weaver? Because I’ve been journaling, Glimmer! I  _ have _ that list!”

“Hey, while we’re at it, let me get my list of people who’ve successfully combined sorcery with a runestone.” Glimmer reached into her pocket, and made a show of unrolling an invisible scroll and studying it closely. “Oh, look at that, there  _ aren’t any _ . I know she’s manipulative and I know she’s hurt you, but she’s also a resource too valuable to ignore!”

Catra smoldered. Bow put a hand on her shoulder. The unspoken reassurance calmed her enough that she breathed in and out, counting the seconds, giving herself some space to react with something other than angry impulse.

“Don’t underestimate Adora,” she said, slowly. “That’s all I’m trying to say right now. Hordak and Shadow Weaver got distracted with selfish side projects and personal gain. Adora won’t. She’s going to be a smart, dedicated enemy, and it’s a mistake to write her off as less than she is.”

For a moment, Glimmer just stared appraisingly at Catra. Catra wasn’t sure what her friend was trying to suss out, but the stare was making her uncomfortable. Thankfully, she got an interruption when a guard entered and walked hastily over to Glimmer, whispering in her ear.

Glimmer cocked an eyebrow. “Bring her in, under close guard. And send for Shadow Weaver, too,” she said to the guard, who hurried out with a bow. Glimmer turned back to the table. “Well, Adora’s certainly doing things differently. A Horde envoy has just arrived.”

A concerned murmur arose from the table.

“Are we sure we want to let a Horde agent in here?” Catra asked.

“I mean, we’ve got a good track record,” Bow said, smiling at her.

Catra grumbled. “And I’m grateful, but it’s not like things have been going great since I showed up.”

“It’s not entirely up to me. The princesses are bound to the laws of hospitality.” The doors opened, and the towering Horde envoy entered with a complement of six guards. “Particularly when other princesses are concerned.”

“Whoa!” Scorpia looked around, and whistled. “I heard it would be swanky here, but man. This is some serious swank.”

Glimmer went to stand in front of Scorpia and held her chin up to strike a regal and unintimidated pose, and also because Scorpia had a good eighteen inches on her. “Princess Scorpia. Welcome to Bright Moon. I will guarantee your safety while you abide by the laws of hospitality, but no one forgets that you tried to conquer this castle last time you were here. Please state your business and let’s keep this visit short.”

“Sure, sure...so, the Horde has taken Thaymor again. Is that news? We don’t really know how fast you guys’ intel is.”

Catra frowned down at the map on the table. No, that wasn’t news. A red Horde glowed flashed over Thaymor.

“I’m sorry, disregard that. I keep forgetting how we’re supposed to put it now.” Scorpia reached a claw into a pocket and took out a small card. She read off of it. “OK: the Horde has  _ accepted  _ Thaymor into its  _ protection _ , and is  _ supporting  _ them in their bid for independence from princess rule. Oh, yeah, that sounds a lot better. Anyway, is that news?”

“Adora was never the most articulate student.” A few of the guards flanking Scorpia stood aside, making room for Shadow Weaver to hobble in. “On the few occasions Hordak would need a release prettied up, it fell to me. Who does she have writing for her now?”

“It’s kind of a committee thing, I think? Kyle’s the one writing most of it down anyway.”

“Really, though, why does she have to be here?” Catra growled to Bow.

“It’s Glimmer’s call. I say we go with it.”

Glimmer stepped up to Scorpia. “Did Adora really send her lieutenant here to  _ gloat _ ? Take, protect, I don’t care what you call it: yes, we know about Thaymor. There’d better be something else.”

“Yeah. Adora thinks we accidentally contacted Hordak’s boss, and we’re worried he’s going to show up in a few months and blow us all away.”

Everyone stopped talking.

“I’m sorry, what?” asked Catra.

Shadow Weaver held a hand up to her face. “Oh...oh, you idiots. What have you done?”

“Shadow Weaver, is this credible?” Glimmer asked.

“It’s what Hordak was trying to accomplish for years,” Shadow Weaver said. “Hordak was an outcast of an armada based in outer space, larger and more powerful than we have any reference point for. His conquests on Etheria were merely a diversion for him while he worked on a portal to summon his master. That army, the Galactic Horde, is at an entirely different level of civilization from any on Etheria. If they are on their way…”

Catra stood. “Bull! I can’t be the only one seeing this, right? One Force Captain rolls up on our doorstep, and has the same spooky story as the woman I’ve been saying for  _ months _ is untrustworthy?”

Glimmer held up a hand. “Catra...noted. Is that all, Scorpia?”

“No. No, that’s really just the intro. The main part is, uh…” Scorpia held the card up again and flipped it over, reading off it again. “Lord Adora of the Etherian Horde cordially invites Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon to a peace summit, to be hosted in the Protectorate of Thaymor one week hence, to discuss the threat posed by the imminent arrival of the Galactic Horde. As a token of good faith, the Horde will withdraw from Thaymor at the conclusion of these talks. To further alleviate concerns over this unprecedented invitation, the bearer of this message, Princess Scorpia of Horror Hall, is to remain at Bright Moon over the duration of the summit as call later all.” A guard peered over and whispered up to Scorpia. “Oh,  _ collateral,  _ to serve as collateral.”

Glimmer nodded, thinking this over. “Interesting offer.”

“Oh, come on! She’s clearly here as a spy!” Catra shouted. She got up from the table and charged over to Scorpia, looking up at the giant and growling. “What are you really doing here?”

“And I’ve never heard of a more obvious trap,” Bow said as he jogged up alongside her.

“Now, now, everyone - I think we should take Scorpia at her word,” Glimmer said. Then she brought up her arms, sweeping them around in arcane gestures and muttering an incantation. In a moment, a circle of glittering runes hung in the air in front of her, and it breezed forward and over Scorpia. “At least, now that she’s under a truth spell.” 

“No, I was already telling the truth! I don’t know how else to convince you. Entrapta says the transmission went through when the portal opened, and Adora is convinced we don’t stand a chance unless we reach some arrangement. I’m honestly just here as a diplomat.”

Shadow Weaver walked up to Glimmer. “Your gestures were flawed. Keep your hands moving strictly clockwise or they’ll impede the natural flow of energies. Again.” She reached out for Glimmer’s wrist and started to lead her through the motions. Again, Glimmer waved her hands through the air, and again a runic circle appeared and floated over Scorpia.

“Tell us what you’re leaving out,” Glimmer said.

Scorpia looked between Glimmer and Shadow Weaver with growing concern. “Um...I don’t know. I really wish I could help you guys out, but I just don’t know what…”

“Flawed, but better,” Shadow Weaver said. “Again. Do it right.”

Catra stared. She couldn’t tell what pissed her off more: Glimmer accepting help from a woman Catra had repeatedly warned her could not be trusted, or Shadow Weaver giving someone else supportive, constructive guidance when she’d only ever dismissed Catra.

Bow reached a hand out to Glimmer. “Glimmer…”

Glimmer tried it one last time. She felt herself drawing on the power of the Moonstone, and this time felt herself drawing too on her frustration and her need to show everyone else that she was in control. There was power in that anger, and the runes she called up glowed a little more red than they had a moment ago. As the spell swept over her this time, Scorpia gasped like she’d been struck.

“Ah. Very good,” Shadow Weaver said.

“Tell us everything,” Glimmer said.  
Scorpia’s eyes went wide. “I’m not a spy. Adora isn’t sending a spy, and she wouldn’t trust me to be one either, even though I’ve kept the one secret she gave me, she had me send Hordak to Beast Island after she usurped him, we had to tell everyone he fled the planet so that Entrapta wouldn’t get mad, I’ve been taking care of his imp to deal with my guilt, Adora doesn’t know about that, she won’t like it and the imp clearly hates me and Adora’s not my biggest fan anyway no matter how much I do for her.” Scorpia reached out to one of the guards, leaning on her for support as she swayed unsteadily. She held her tongue long enough to catch her breath, apparently at great effort. “Please stop.”

Glimmer started to lower her hand and drop the compulsion, but Shadow Weaver grabbed her wrist more firmly and held it up. “More. Tell us what you’re hiding.”

“Adora thinks you might not release me after the talks, and she’s fine with that. She fully intends for you to leave the summit safely, so she knows I’ll be safe, but you might just keep me as a hostage, and she’s okay with that because she doesn’t value me much.” Scorpia tried to stop each sentence, but despite her effort and discomfort, they came out anyway. It was like watching someone throw up. Tears were starting to well up in her eyes. “In fact she’d be a little relieved to have me out of her hair. I’m too much sometimes, everyone knows it.” She fell to a knee and sobbed. “I’m too much, I don’t know how to change, I’ve never fit in anywhere, I...I don’t want to hear this. I want to stop. Please.”

Glimmer kept her hand upraised, maintaining the spell. Some of the twinkling light in her hair and eyes shine with the same angry red as the spell. The whole scene was too much for Catra, too familiar; she pounced forward and put her arms around Scorpia protectively.

“ _ Glimmer! _ ” As Catra shouted at the queen, she saw that Bow had interposed himself as well, taking standing in front of Glimmer with his hands placed gently on hers. Catra could not quite read the look on Glimmer’s face. Perhaps she saw shock at how much discomfort Glimmer had caused Scorpia; perhaps she saw annoyance at her friends’ unilaterally interrupting this interrogation. Likely she saw both.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Catra said to Scorpia. She helped her to her feet. “Say a lie.”

Scorpia was catching her breath and blinking. “What?”

“Say my outfit’s blue or something. Show yourself you have control again. Trust me, it helps.”

“You are wearing a blue outfit.” Scorpia looked Catra up and down. “And it looks bad on you.”

Catra smirked.

“Yeah, that does help,” Scorpia said.

“I know,” said Catra.

“Consider that repayment for violating the laws of hospitality at Frosta’s ball,” Glimmer said. “Guards, escort Scorpia to the sunroom in the east wing. See to it that she is kept under close watch, but that all of her needs are met comfortably. We’ll talk more over dinner later.”

The guards led her out. Bow had stood aside. Catra and Glimmer were staring at each other.

“Oh, dear,” Shadow Weaver said. “I think Catra is building to one of her famous moods. If it’s all the same to you, I’ve heard enough of that for a lifetime. I’ll just go to my garden if anyone needs me.”

“You do that,” Catra spat.

They waited for the sorceress to leave, Catra and Glimmer staying in their staring contest.

“Guys…” Bow started, hoping to head this off.

“What the hell, Glimmer?” Catra shouted.

“Hey, thanks for undermining me in front of a Horde agent, guys! Really, that’s a  _ great _ look!” Glimmer shouted back.

“I’ve told you and I’ve told you, you cannot trust Shadow Weaver! I thought the worst case scenario was she tricks you into giving her power again, but I think I just saw the real worst case.” She stood up and walked up to Glimmer. “I will not let you become like her. I had one Shadow Weaver in my life already. I won’t tolerate another.”

Glimmer breathed in deep, trying to control herself, but it didn’t take. “If I have to ensure my own safety and the safety of my friends, and the price is making a Horde woman who once tried to sack this castle cry, I’m not going to be lectured about it.”

Catra pointed back at where Scorpia had been standing. “What you just did to Scorpia? Taking away her will, using black magic to make her do what you want while she cries for you to stop? Have I not talked enough about what my childhood was like that you can connect the dots here?”

Glimmer’s eyes went wide, and she looked away from Catra. Whatever comeback she’d had ready fizzled.

“I can’t tell you I won’t do it again,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’ll learn better control, but the stakes are too high to leave any resource untapped.”

“We get that,” Bow said. “But...power changes people, Glimmer. You need to be careful.”

“Are you...going to be okay with this, Catra?”

Catra frowned. “I don’t know. I trust you, but I know the stuff you’re flirting with. If I think you’re crossing a line, I’m going to call you on it.”

Glimmer smiled. “As if I could stop you.”

The Squad hugged it out. It was a little forced, a little uneasy, but as slightly forced gestures go, it was reassuring.

There remained, however, one pestering thought.

Catra had seen Glimmer act like Shadow Weaver.

If the choice was serve under a new Shadow Weaver - and granted, Glimmer was a far cry from Shadow Weaver, Glimmer was one of her best friends, Glimmer had shown her more love and respect and empathy than Catra had known in her whole life…

But if the choice was a new Shadow Weaver, or Adora…

Well, that was no choice at all.


	8. Peace Talks

Adora sat in a large tent in Thaymor, looking over dispatches from various operations on a tablet. Kyle was managing the paperwork back in the Fright Zone and sending her anything that seemed a high priority or that Adora needed to sign off on. The war was mostly at a standstill, but keeping production numbers and resource inflow high was critically important, considering the war to come.

She’d made every attempt to guarantee the safety of the queen and her delegation, allowing Bright Moon personnel to inspect the site for traps or ambushes in advance, ensuring a wide space would be permitted around the queen so she knew she could teleport away with her friends if she felt threatened. Queen Glimmer had even sent her notice that they’d be bringing Scorpia along, just in case Adora had been planning to bomb their party at some point. That was off-book, but fine. The trap here was far subtler, and Glimmer would only feel its sting later.

The mood around Thaymor was predictably tense. They could call this a peace summit all they wanted, but it still amounted to armed Horde and Rebellion units staring uneasily at each other across an undefined boundary loosely through the middle of the town. Adora had tried to put the locals at ease - the long-term plan needed Thaymor thinking well of her, after all.

She stared at the now-empty tray of pastries on the table. Probably the cooks at the inn needed some distraction from all this stress, right?

Adora whistled. A guard came in, and she held the tray up.

“Get more of these.”

“Ma’am.” The guard nodded and took the tray. “Which ones were…”

“The ones with the brown stuff inside.” Adora considered. “The little sausages with the dough around them, too.”

The guard nodded again, and left.

Adora lost track of time. After what felt like only a few minutes, the tent flap opened again. She turned, and with a grunt of frustration, she saw there was no pastry. An old woman, hunched and filthy, stood in the doorway with an empty pie plate.

“Ah, there you are, Mara,” the woman said, regarding her with glasses that made her eyes look comically huge. She hobbled forward, leaning heavily on a large stick. “I’ve been waiting for you. We’re making a pie today.”

Adora sighed, imagining the multiple breakdowns in communication that must have led to this. “You’re confused. Civilians can’t be in this tent.”

The woman chuckled. “Madame Razz is often confused, that’s true, but she’s not often wrong. Today’s the day that you and I are supposed to make a...oh, wait.” The crone had gotten right up to her, and she squinted her eyes and leaned in. After a moment of careful study of Adora and their surroundings, the woman clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Ohhhh. You’re bad this time.” She bopped Adora on the head with her staff, not hard enough to count as an attack to be met with corresponding force, but hard enough to smart. “Oh, deary. You make it so hard on yourself when you’re bad.”

Adora rubbed her head. “OK. I’ve been indulgent, but you’ve got to go. The guards will help you find whoever takes care of you.”

Adora turned to the entrance of the tent to find a guard. With her back turned, the woman hit her on the head again.

“To think, I thought we’d make a pie! You never want to make a pie when you're like this.”

Adora turned back to her, her fists clenched. “I don’t know who you think you are, or who you think I am, but you are trying my patience.”

“Madame Razz knows you, deary. Good or bad, you’re still you.” She looked at Adora’s fists, and smiled sadly. “And even when you’re bad, you would never hit an old woman.”

Adora wanted to give a snappy comeback to that, “Wouldn’t I?” or something like that, anything to get this old bat out of her hair.

But she let her hands relax and sighed.

“I”m very busy,” she said.

“Yes, yes, no time for Razz, I know.” The old woman gathered up the pie plate and went out the door. “You run yourself ragged, Mara. No matter. We’ll make a pie when you’re good.”

She left. Adora followed, just to make sure someone took charge of where the woman was going so she didn’t hurt herself, but as she opened the tent flaps, she saw no sign of her.

“Where’d she go?”

“Ma’am?” asked one of the soldiers standing guard.

“The old woman who just left here. Where is she?”

The guards looked at each other. Adora sighed.

“Never mind. Too much magic in this area.” She went back inside, then popped out a second later. “Get me an update on those pastries.” 

\---

A few hours later, the Queen arrived.

There was little pomp and ceremony. Though Adora had invited every member of the Princess Alliance to these talks, Glimmer had insisted that she, Scorpia, and Catra would be the only royals in attendance - she’d sent this notice in writing, and identified Catra as “Princess Catra” with “Princess” in all caps, underlined, and bracketed with little crowns. That was prudent. Adora didn’t plan to set off a bomb and wipe out the Alliance in one move, but if they were all just going to be there in one room on her territory...well, anyway, it wasn’t happening.

The Queen arrived in town with an honor guard of Bright Moon stalwarts, cloaked and armed, but history showed that the archer on her left and the feline on her right would be the real muscle if a scrape broke out. They moved slowly, cautiously, anticipating violence, finding their way steadily to the tent that had been appointed for the meeting.

On one side, Horde guards arrayed behind them, sat Entrapta, Adora, and Lonnie. On the other, taking their seats, were Bow, Glimmer, Catra, and Scorpia. They all sized each other up, cautiously assessing the threat posed by...

“Hi, Bow!” Entrapta called out across the table, waving. “Oh, Scorpia? I didn’t think you’d be here. Oh, what’s that!”

Bow was setting up a large tech panel on a tripod, propping it up on the table next to him. “Some of the princesses have decided to call in on a video. I had to rig up a screen that could broadcast video feed from a few sources.”

“Ohhhh.” Entrapta regarded this hungrily. She turned to Adora. “Can I go look at it?”

“No,” Lonnie said. Entrapta whimpered.

“Welcome,” Adora said. “I’m glad you’ve given me enough trust to meet me here. If you’ll give me just a little more, we have plenty of refreshments. The food is all safe, I promise, and the wine - or juice, if you prefer.”

Glimmer narrowed her eyes. “I’m good, thanks.”

Adora hadn’t meant that as a dig at the young Queen, and that she’d taken that as a burn actually made Adora a little embarrassed about her own cup of juice. So she liked sweet things, okay?

“As agreed, whatever the outcome of these talks, I will return Thaymor to your dominion when we’re done.”

“What a  _ saint _ ,” Catra said.

When everyone had taken their seats, and the other princesses of the alliance were broadcasting on the screen, Adora got underway.

“Scorpia has told you about the threat of the Galactic Horde, I’m sure. Between Shadow Weaver and your truth magic, are you convinced the threat is real?”

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Mermista drolled on the screen.

“Good. Let’s talk about what we can do about it. It hasn’t escaped our notice that Princess Glimmer…”

“ _ Queen _ ,” Glimmer said.

Adora smiled graciously and nodded. “...that  _ Queen _ Glimmer has been scouting the Fright Zone, giving you a clear view of our production and readiness. Good on you, by the way. We’re trying, but we have not found a counter to that, yet.”

“But I have some really neat ideas in beta! Theoretically, it’s possible to build sensors that could detect Glimmer’s energy signature, or more specifically the Moonstone’s energy signature, and then…”

Adora glanced over at the scientist. “Entrapta.”

“Hm?” Entrapta looked back at Adora, then around at the table, then back at Adora. “Oh! Is this like we talked about? ‘Classified material’?”

Adora nodded. When Entrapta had been quiet for a few seconds, Adora resumed. “So it’s no secret to you I’ve been building up the Horde’s forces. We can build three tanks in the time it takes one of your smiths to make one sword. We have more bots than ever, more tanks than ever, and enough weapons and armor to outfit an army ten times larger than any the Horde has ever fielded. I think I can say without boasting that I command the most powerful army in Etheria since the wars of the First Ones.”

Catra banged her fist on the table. This, the smugness, was a little too much. “You’ve got the weapons and armor, but you don’t have the bodies to use them. You really think the people in these conquered towns are going to willingly fight and die for you? The Horde? The people who’ve been killing them and poisoning their lands for years? You’ve always been kind of an idiot, Adora, but I never took you for an absolute moron.”

“Maybe, maybe not. With or without them, we have enough force to knock out any one of your capitals, then retreat, rebuild, and do it again and again until all of Etheria is ours within...was it two years, Entrapta?”

Entrapta’s hair reached under the table and pulled out a tripod and a set of graphs, one tendril picking up a pointing stick that she used to indicate sections of interest on the graphs. "Well, two years is a little generous, and makes pessimistic assumptions about continuing innovation on the Princess Alliance and aggressive estimates on the role that damage to infrastructure, trade, and morale have on the remaining kingdoms, but it’s certainly plausible. As you see here at the bulge in the curve, there’s a 70% chance that a Horde conquest of Etheria will become complete within a three-to-five-year period.”

Bow frowned. “I would have brought charts. I didn’t know we were bringing charts…”

Glimmer clapped. “Very impressive. Consider me terrified. Was there anything you wanted to get to other than bragging?”

“Yes. I won’t mince words. We’re all busy, and whatever the outcome of this conference, we’re all going to have a lot of work to do. So I’ll cut right to it: for the good of Etheria - for the  _ survival  _ of Etheria - I ask you to surrender to the Horde.”

All the princesses on the screen shared identical shocked expressions. Frosta just up and hung up. Glimmer blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know what this must sound like, but I hope you’ll see reason. It’s our only hope.”

Another pause.

“OK, no,” Mermista said. She hung up, too, her image going dark on the screen.

Glimmer got up. “You’d better have a bomb or assassin or something devious you’re planning to pull. I’d at least understand that. This? This is just disrespectful.”

“It’s the only way. We might only have a few months, and we need to use every hour we’ve got coordinating a global defense unlike anything in record. Every second we spend fighting from now on is wasted effort.”

“I agree!” Glimmer said. “I’m all for an end to the fighting! But it’s a little bit of a jump from saying we should end the war to saying we need to surrender to you.”

“I don’t think you’ve considered the scale of the task ahead of us. I have. We’ve been producing weapons and armor to equip your own people, yes, but not against you. A global Horde, equipped and trained with Horde weaponry, is our only chance at a meaningful defense.”

“Would it not make sense to just train us to use the weapons ourselves?” Perfuma suggested.

Bow nodded. “That makes a lot more sense. It wouldn’t be much of a threat to the Horde, either - even if we started fighting again after the invasion, all production would still be in the Fright Zone. We wouldn’t be able to replace any guns or vehicles we lost. You’d still have the tech advantage. It wouldn’t be much of a threat to you.”

“Wrong. Leaving the planet’s defense in the hands of a squabbling committee of royals isn’t just a threat to us. It’s suicide. The princesses have consistently lost ground against the Etherian Horde, and that was before you were led by a grieving child.”

Glimmer flexed her hand, ready to call her staff. Catra extended her claws. Bow reached up to his shoulder, not quite grabbing an arrow but keeping his hand in the vicinity. Lonnie reached under the table. The guards standing behind Adora opened their hands and kept them near their holstered stun rods. No one actually laid a hand on a weapon, but a promise of violence lay heavy on the room.

“What I’m sure Adora  _ meant  _ to say was…” Scorpia started.

Glimmer ignored her, staring unblinking at Adora. “Say. That. Again.”

Adora waved dismissively at Scorpia. “I said what I meant. I’m sorry for your loss, but the facts are the facts. You were handed leadership before you were ready because you lost your mother, no other reason, and in that time border towns have slipped one by one into Horde control while we build for an unstoppable offensive. If I wanted to see some proof that you could be trusted with this responsibility, where should I look?”

Glimmer leaned over the table. “Look in the corner, before you go to sleep tonight. Look behind you when you’re eating dinner. Look where you least expect it, when you least expect it.” She slammed the tabletop. “We’ve been waiting to react to whatever your next big move is, but if you’re hoping to provoke me, I am  _ so _ game. I can be anywhere, any time, bitch.”

A halo shone threateningly around Glimmer. Again, as Catra looked on with unease, she saw flecks of that same angry red in her aura, in her hair, in her eyes. Again, Catra looked at her friend with just a little bit of terror.

Adora sighed and looked around the table at Bow, Catra, and the projections of the other princesses. “Can someone calm her down? I feel we’ve gotten off-topic.”

Glimmer’s aura flared brighter, but Catra turned her distaste toward Adora. She knew this game. Provoke a reaction from someone, then weaponize it against her. A Shadow Weaver classic. It seemed there was no escaping the old witch’s influence.

“Adora.” Catra met Adora’s eyes and held them for a second. “Cut it out.”

Lonnie smirked over at Adora. “Look who still thinks she can tell you what to do.”

Bow was whispering something to Glimmer, and with some effort the Queen regained enough composure that the sparking energy around her subsided. Adora held up her hands for everyone to calm down.

“I don’t want this, your Majesty. Ask Catra - I’ve never wanted this. If there was anyone else who could have stopped Hordak’s excesses and used the resources of the Horde to better Etheria, I would have gladly let them do it. If there was anyone else in a position to lead Etheria effectively against this threat, I’d get right behind them and ask how I could help. But there isn’t. The Horde needs me. Etheria needs me.  _ You _ need me, even if you don’t realize it yet. I’m sorry, but I can’t back down just for the sake of your pride.”

“Oh,  _ poor you _ ,” Catra said. “There are other people in this world beside you, Adora. If you actually gave them a chance instead of putting on dumb shows like this, you’d see they’re good people. I don’t know what you’re playing here, but if you’re serious about fighting this Space Horde, you need to come down off that pedestal you’ve got yourself on.”

Lonnie rolled her eyes. “Please. You think you’ve got the right to tear her down, Catra? When you decided you didn’t like the Horde, you just walked away and hoped someone else would fix it. Guess what? We did!”

“Uh, no? I walked away and kicked your asses!” Catra shouted back.

“That’s actually statistically accurate,” Entrapta said. Her hair pulled a few charts down, leaving one that showed the comparative success of Horde operations since Catra had left. It was very detailed, but no one looked at it.

Again, more emphatically, Adora held up a hand for order. “Look, we’re offering generous terms. I’ll be appointing a viceroy over each of your kingdoms, but I want the princesses to stay on as advisors. I think it will do a lot to ease the transition and ease morale. Since she knows your forces already and since I think we both trust her, your Majesty, I was hoping Catra would agree to govern Bright Moon for me.”

Catra hissed in an angry breath. She knew this game, too. Play two friends against each other. Another classic - the hits just kept coming with Adora today. And even though she saw the game plainly...Adora was making sense. Suppose there was a futuristic army coming to attack from the skies. Glimmer didn’t have a plan for that, nor much hope for a plan. The technology of the Horde, directed by someone as competent as Adora...was there any other feasible option?

She shook herself out of her thoughts to find Glimmer glaring at her, anger and hurt plain on her face.

Glimmer made a disgusted little sound. “Thinking it over?”

“What? No, I’m just...this is a lot to take in..”

“Hm. Well, I’ve taken in enough.” Glimmer grabbed Bow, who looked a little confused but still went about disconnecting the screen with the princess and stowing it. “If you want to work together to fix this trouble you’ve brought on everybody, Adora, that’s one thing. If you want Bright Moon for yourself, it’ll be over a lot of dead bodies. Let’s go.”

Glimmer turned to go. The detachment of bodyguards fanned out, some keeping an eye on the Horde side of the table and others clearing the way out. Glimmer stormed off, pulling Bow after her. Catra grabbed Scorpia’s pincer to lead her out, but she stopped to look back at Adora.

“They been treating you well?” Adora asked Scorpia.

“Oh, fine. Respectfully, ma’am, I think we need to have a very frank conversation about the state of our cafeteria.”

“Let’s do that.” Adora turned her eyes to Catra. “When am I getting her back?”

“When we get back to Bright Moon safely.”

Adora nodded. “I mean it, by the way. You’d be good in charge.”

“Stop it!” Catra lashed out with her free hand, striking the chair she’d just been sitting in and slashing the cushion on its backing. “Just stop! I can’t listen to you if you’re just going to play stupid mind games.”

“It’s no game. I swear to you: the threat is real. Help me face it.”

“It might not even matter,” Entrapta said, characteristically bubbly despite the tension in the room and the dourness of her subject matter. “Hordak’s tech and his stories suggest the Galactic Horde is extremely advanced, but there’s no way to know just how advanced or how much they’re willing to commit to taking Etheria. We may have no chance even with ideal preparation.”

Adora sighed.

“Really, why did we even bring her?” Lonnie asked.

“I can give us a chance, Catra,” Adora said. “For once, I’m glad you left, because it’s put you in a position to help them see the truth. Change Glimmer’s mind. It’s the only way.”

Catra felt another urge for violence coming on. She needed to get out of there. She grabbed Scorpia’s claw like she was biting down on a bullet. “No. I’m not falling for this. Whatever it is you were trying to pull here, it won’t work. Come on.”

Catra yanked Scorpia after her as she walked after Glimmer.

And when she was gone, Adora smirked. “Maybe not.” One of the guards behind her stepped forward. “But so far, so good.”

The guard sat on the table next to Adora, leaning back with crossed legs.

“Did you get enough?” Adora asked.

The guard’s armor and helmet blackened, and their shape elongated and shifted with a squelching noise.

“Oh, she’s an open book, honey,” Double Trouble said. “Tired of being treated like a kid, wants to show them all how serious she is, flirting with dark powers to do it, good night, no encore.”

“Good.” Adora nodded. “Good. Lonnie, issue the order to withdraw from Thaymor and let’s get back to the Fright Zone. We are going ahead with phase two.”


	9. The Horror

“It’s like she can’t even see herself!” Catra shouted. She was pacing back and forth in her room, Bow and Melog sitting on her bed as she vented. “Like, hello! Angry red aura? Powers that seem to spike when she’s angry? It feels like the signs are pretty damn clear on this road!”

“That’s true, but…” Bow said. He had stopped by to visit after Catra had skipped a debriefing and follow-up meeting with Glimmer and her council.

“And can we talk about how she’s hiding all these lessons from her aunt?” Catra continued. “Does that sound like Glimmer to hide stuff from her family?”

“Well...yes, it does.”

She felt a murmur of agreement from Melog.  _ You’ve been party to hiding secrets from her mother several times. _

Catra sighed loudly. “Fine! Secrecy and stubbornness are in-character. But I still hate what’s happening. Magic like this twists people, and I won’t let that happen to Glimmer.”

Bow looked at Melog, and they returned the glance. Catra made a little huff.

“I think you’re right, Catra, but think about the way you’re going about it. Confronting her in front of big groups, then ditching meetings with her when she doesn’t listen - I feel like that’s just going to push her away from you when she needs you the most.”

_ Yes. The best you can do is make sure she understands the danger, and then show her you trust her to make a good decision. From what you’ve told me, more dangerous than any of Shadow Weaver’s magic is her talent for isolating people from each other. _

Catra looked between Bow and Melog with a grimace. Bow smiled and pointed a thumb at Melog.

“Did they agree and add more good advice?”

Catra crossed her arms, looked away, and muttered something vaguely affirmative. Melog nuzzled Bow.

_ I like this one. This one is wise _ .

“How can you gang up on me this effectively when you can’t even talk to each other?” Catra said.

_ We know your history. We don’t want it to repeat. _

“I mean, you’ve told us a lot about what it was like growing up with Shadow Weaver. If you can see the same tricks coming, maybe this is a chance to do things differently.”

Catra made another frustrated huff. She came and sat next to Bow. As irritating as it was that they were both reading her like such an open book, she did the hard work of considering their words. And it was hard work, because she really didn’t like the conclusion they were leading her to. Whether or not Glimmer’s sorcery lessons were playing into Shadow Weaver’s hands, Catra’s explosive reactions, pushing Glimmer away and making her more reliant on the old witch, most definitely were.

“So what? I’m supposed to just watch while she walks herself off the cliff?”

_ You have told her where the cliff is. Now you trust her to walk carefully. If you try to hold her hand or push her back from the brink, you’re taking away her agency at a time when Shadow Weaver is offering her more agency. _

“Look, everyone likes to know their friends trust their decisions, and Glimmer’s not just anyone - she’s a new queen. Plus with Glimmer, sometimes if you push her not to do something, she just wants to do it more. It’s, uh...like someone else I know.”

Melog purred in smug satisfaction.  _ I think he means you are the same way, and I agree. _

“Really, how are you two doing this?”

Bow shrugged. “Oh, I have no idea! But as a longtime Friendship and Feelings Guy: game recognize game.”

_ Indeed _ .

He held up a hand to Melog. Melog slapped it with a paw.

Catra sighed and threw herself back on the bed. “I don’t like this. But...fine. I’ll try. I mean, I see her point about our situation. Whether we’re hopelessly outgunned by a space army or hopelessly outgunned by Adora, either way we need more firepower wherever we can get it.”

Bow nodded and sighed. “Yeah. That’s actually the other reason I came here. Glimmer has a job for you. When you didn’t show at the meeting, she decided you might like it better coming from me."

Catra sat back up, suspicious. Melog’s relaxed posture became more alert.

“What is it?”

“She wants you to go back to the Crystal Castle. She wants you to reconnect with that operating system you met there.”

Catra and Melog growled simultaneously. Bow’s eyes went a little wide. He knew he was in no danger, but the sound caused an instinctual “You’re about to be eaten” reaction.

_ That one is dangerous.  _ Melog jumped down from the bed, their mane flaring red as they paced uneasily around on the floor, as if stuck between fight and flight reactions.  _ That one is a tool of the First Ones. Usurpers. Corruptors. That one is dangerous. _

Catra waved at Melog’s reaction. “That about sums up my feelings. Light Hope’s bad news. Melog had a bad feeling about her from day one, and they haven’t steered me wrong yet. I’ve done just fine without her training.”

_ That one guided the First Ones who stole the mantle of She-Ra. That one sees She-Ra as a weapon of the First Ones, nothing more. _

“I get it. Glimmer does too. We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, but Glimmer’s asking everyone to chase down any leads they’ve got to find assets that can help us against the Horde. She asked my dads if they had anything, and they told her about records they’ve found about some ancient First Ones superweapon.” Bow reached down and picked up his tech slate. He brought up an image of First Ones writing. “Supposedly it was called…”

“The Heart of Etheria,” Catra read.

Bow nodded. “They’ve only found a few incomplete references to it, but enough to know it was very powerful, maybe the most powerful weapon the First Ones ever made, and it was buried deep underground. Which means it could still exist.”

Melog, their hair still red and raised, paced up to Catra for comfort.

_ Usurpers. Destroyers. I am frightened. _

“You and me both, pal,” Catra said, putting a reassuring hand on their mane. “Do they think it’s connected to Light Hope and the Crystal Castle?”

“There’s no indication of that. But, Light Hope’s a First One’s operating system, and if her knowledge of She-Ra is any indication, she knows some high-level stuff. I trust you -  _ we  _ trust you - when you say you get bad vibes from her, but she seems to acknowledge some kind of authority you have over her, too. All we’re asking is to see if she knows anything about the Heart of Etheria. What it is, where it is, whether it still exists...is it safe?”

_ I am frightened _ . Melog let out a small, mournful mew.  _ But if this is where you go, I will follow. _

Catra didn’t like this. Like, at all. Like Melog, she’d had an instinctual bad reaction to Light Hope the first time they’d met. She’d chalked it up to general uneasiness and mistrust of old female authority figures who clearly had plans for her, but as she’d come more and more into the power of She-Ra, and learned more of the fraught history that her people had with the FIrst Ones, she’d decided she’d made a good call to avoid the Crystal Castle.

But, Bow was right. Glimmer was right. They were up against the ropes. Any potential asset, however suspicious, was worth reexamining.

“OK. I’ll head out now. Do you...know if Glimmer is around?”

Melog was calming down, and nudged her.  _ You should state your intention to apologize. It will make it easier to actualize. _

“I was getting to it!” She turned back to Bow. “I think I should apologize to her.”

“She was leaving on an errand after the meeting. She said she had to go see her aunt about something.”

“Oh...well, good she’s going to see her.” Catra said it, but she wasn’t sure how much she meant it. Something felt suspicious. But this was no time. “I’ll see her when we’re both back, I guess.”

\---

Bethan looked around the corner of the inn. It took a great force of effort - every instinct was telling her to hide and stay hidden and wait this horror out, that any action that might reveal her location was suicide, but she saw them searching the houses one by one, searching the whole town, saw the innkeeper and her son and Hollis and his family and twenty other people on their knees in chains in the square and…

She ducked back behind the corner, shuffling off into the shrubs growing along the wall of this house. Her flour-smeared apron caught on some of the branches and brambles embedded in the tufts of wool growing around her head and arms, but she made her way in. The children already hiding there looked at her for reassurance, most of them trying to stifle their sobs, but she had no reassurance to give.

“What’s going on, miss?” one of them asked.

“I don’t know,” Bethan said. She knew that soldiers were setting Thaymor on fire, beating its people, and putting them in chains.

And she knew that the soldiers wore the white armor and helmets of Bright Moon.

“Whatever happens, stay hidden,” she whispered. “I’m going to try to find a way out of town.”

“Where’s my mom?” the innkeeper’s daughter begged.

“Just stay here, and stay quiet. I’ll come back,” Bethan urged. She snuck out of the hedge, again ignoring every impulse in her to just sit and wait this out, and looking up and down the street for any approaching patrols. She knew they had set up a perimeter around Thaymor, specifically to stop people from fleeing, but she had to believe there was a chance. She didn’t know what was happening, but if it started with rounding up townsfolk in chains and putting their homes and shops to the torch, she knew she didn’t want to be around when it ended.

Their best bet was to reach the meadow. It wasn’t far, less than a quarter mile. The kids could easily lose these soldiers in that tall grass. Where would they go from there? How many of them could she live with getting captured? Bethan couldn’t handle these questions. She was a baker, not a soldier. She was no stranger to crises - the Horde had rolled into town multiple times - but things were different today.

And as she sprinted toward a neighboring building, hoping to see if the way to the meadow was clear, a figure materialized out of thin air in front of her. Bethan stumbled in shock, tripping and falling to the ground.

Yes. Things were certainly different today, Bethan reflected as she looked into the eyes of Queen Glimmer herself. A halo of red light shone around her, and she looked down at Bethan with rage and disgust in equal great measures.

The Queen held up her staff, pointing back at the square.

“Get back there with the others.”

“Please, your highness, I don’t know what we’ve done to…”

Queen Glimmer pointed her staff lower, and a bolt of light shot out and struck the ground in front of Bethan, leaving a smoking hole.

“Did that sound like I was inviting conversation?” The Queen took a step forward and pointed the tip of the staff levelly at Bethan’s head. “Don’t make me tell you again. I am so,  _ so  _ tired of repeating myself.”

Bethan slowly got up, her hands raised. Glimmer had a reputation for a temper, but also for a good heart and a love for her people. Had the loss of her mother deranged her? Was she crazed over her prospects against the Horde? Were the rumors of lessons from the Traitor of Mystacor true?

It didn’t matter. What mattered was when Bethan looked in her eyes, she saw plainly that the Queen was ready to kill her where she stood. She turned and let the Queen march her back to the square. They passed her bakery, passed the shrubs where the kids were hiding, and Bethan knew she had to do something to keep them from breaking cover. She looked over at the shrubs, trying not to be obvious, and was going to wink when she felt something knock her legs out from underneath her. Glimmer put a foot on her back and her staff on her head, and she whistled loudly. Three soldiers in the white armor of Bright Moon hustled up, and at a gesture from Glimmer, they started hauling screaming children out of the bushes.

“No!” Bethan shouted.

Glimmer pressed down on the staff, pushing Bethan’s face into the dirt.

“No!” Glimmer shouted back mockingly. “No, Glimmer! You shouldn’t do that, Glimmer! Everyone’s got a fucking opinion.” She got off Bethan’s back, kicked her in the side, and flagged down some more guards. “The kids trust this one. Put her with them.”

She felt herself hauled to her feet roughly by still more white-armored guards. She could barely see their features under the shadows of their helmets, but she could tell they were men. That was a little odd in itself. She’d only ever seen women wearing the white armor and helmet, but she’d only seen so many of them in her life. Probably there just weren’t that many. She had other things to worry about.

She was thrown roughly into a group of wailing, terrified children, surrounded by guards who paid them no mind except to throw them back when this boy or that girl tried to make a run for it or go to their parents. Those parents, as with all the other adults in town, were on their knees in the town square with iron manacles around their wrists, likewise flanked by guards brandishing swords and halberds. None of the adults were trying to make a break for it - not anymore, Bethan thought as she noted a few bodies cut down around the edge of the group.

The steeple of the town hall collapsed, imploding into the burning hulk of the hall in a plume of sparks. Wails went up from the children.

The Queen appeared, again out of thin air, between the children and the adults. She held her staff high and struck it on the cobblestones of the square three times with three loud cracks. In the comparative silence that followed, she spoke.

“People of Thaymor. This village has been under the protection of the Throne of Bright Moon for many, many years. Even besides the oaths you’ve made, I considered you our friends. But it seems like I’m finding out the hard way lately who my friends really are.”

A man shuffled forward on his knees, not daring to rise or look at the Queen. He bowed with his whole body, nearly laying himself completely flat on his face as he groveled. Glimmer regarded him as she would regard a cockroach crawling out from under a cabinet.

“Your Majesty, we were under duress. You have to believe that our loyalty was only to you. We hoped to deceive the Horde, to take their weapons and feed them bad information while…”

Glimmer made a revolted gesture at the man, and a soldier in white came forward and dragged the man roughly off to the side. The soldier lifted his sword.

Bethan covered her eyes. She heard a lot of screaming. When she opened them, the soldier’s armor and cape were not so white anymore.

Glimmer looked distastefully at the ruin of the man on the ground, then turned her attention back to the mass of people. “It’s too late for all that. People of Thaymor, I declare you faithless. You foreswore oaths that go back into ancient times, and you are unwelcome in my sight.”

Bethan heard the twang of bowstrings being pulled taught, saw the soldiers meaningfully change the grips on their swords and halberds. Glimmer turned her back to the chained adults and walked toward the children.

“You. Kids. I can’t hold you responsible for the failures of your parents. You’re the children of my kingdom, and your care and upbringing are part of my responsibility.” She held a hand out to the amassed adults in the square. “So today, I’m going to be your teacher. Pay close attention. The subject is oaths of loyalty. And the consequences of breaking them.”

Several of the children tried to run to their parents. Some of the parents tried to reach out to their children. The soldiers had none of it.

“Watch. Learn this lesson. I’m going to let you go in a little while. You can run off to the villages in the area, and grow up big and strong in new homes. But you’re going to need to teach them what you learned today. You.”

Bethan realized the Queen was looking directly at her.

“I’m not kidding around. I own this. This is on my hands. But if I have to do this again because word of it doesn’t spread enough and other towns decide it’d be a good idea to work with the Horde: that’ll be on your hands. Are you clear on your job?”

Bethan tried to nod. Her muscles would not respond. Glimmer saw something in her face that was answer enough.

“Good. I really don’t want to do this again.”

Glimmer waved at the soldiers in the square. Weapons were raised. Bowstrings were loosed. A cry went up in the square. It continued until there was no one left to keep it up, and what would be called the Horror at Thaymor had concluded.


	10. Prices

“Well, if I’m being honest,” Castapella said. She was in a lounge in Mystacor’s residential complex, and Glimmer sat across from her, a table with light refreshments between them. “I think it’s dangerous to take lessons from Shadow Weaver. She is, in her way, a very capable teacher, but she is just as good at imparting skills and knowledge to her wards as she is in molding them, grooming them for whatever selfish purpose she’s working toward. I saw it happen with your father. It sounds like your friend Catra saw it happen, too.”

“Yeah, Catra’s been pretty vocal on the subject,” Glimmer said. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you about this sooner. About Shadow Weaver, and about getting magic lessons. It just sort of happened...one day she was a prisoner, then we needed her to teach Catra how to heal, then we needed her to get into the Fright Zone, and…”

“Oh, not at all. I’m not hurt. I wasn’t exactly falling over to volunteer my lessons to you, and Shadow Weaver has a way of making herself indispensable. Somehow, any organization she’s in, she finds a way to make sure it can’t run without her. It really infuriates you when you get to thinking of what she could accomplish if she used all that cleverness and talent for good.”

“Still, I should have reached out. I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven, dear.” Casta smiled, though there was something uneasy in her expression.

“She was like that with my dad, too? I thought that ritual she did with him was what turned her into Shadow Weaver.”

Again, Casta looked a little pained, but she kept her tone casual. “That was the popular opinion, but honestly, I don’t think so. She was always selfish, manipulative, and power-hungry. She’d just always kept up a pretense of being a reasonable human being who was capable of valuing others, but as soon as she thought she was strong enough, she decided there was no need for those illusions anymore. She started wearing a mask after the ritual scarred her face, but if you ask me, ‘Light Spinner’ was the real mask.”

Glimmer sneered. “You’ve worked on that phrasing.”

Casta smiled in satisfaction. “I’ve been mulling it over for a few decades.”

They sat there for a moment, sipping their tea in silence.

Then Glimmer went for it. “What was the name of that ritual, again?”

And Casta sighed. “Ah, there it is.”

“Aunt Casta, I…”

“Glimmer, your Highness...” Casta smiled earnestly at her as she put her teacup down. “I’m sure you really do value my opinion on Shadow Weaver, too, and I really am glad you found time to visit, for my sake and for Mystacor’s. But if this is what you’re mainly here for, I’d rather we talk openly about it.”

Glimmer looked appraisingly into Casta’s eyes, then slowly put her own cup down. After a moment, she made a polite gesture for Casta to go on.

“It’s called the Spell of Obtainment. It is forbidden. You’re not bound by the laws of Mystacor, of course, but our elders don’t forbid spells lightly. Every sorcerer who’s attempted Obtainment, Glimmer, every single one, has been burned-out or killed. It lets the caster siphon or ‘obtain’ magic from the world around them and channel it into more powerful spells than a normal sorcerer could ever manage. In fact anyone who completes the ritual finds they need to constantly drain magical energy from anywhere they can, even other people. Its casters - its victims, really - have described it as an endless hunger, and eventually, when they couldn’t obtain anything else for it to consume, it consumed them. Shadow Weaver held it off for years when she had an unlimited source, the Black Garnet, but as soon as she was cut off from it...well, you saw what happened to her.”

Glimmer thought about this. Catra had saved Shadow Weaver’s life, but not her magic - she’d been able to draw into Glimmer’s own power that night the portal had opened, but unless she was connected to an active source, she was powerless. There was more here, though, a message between Casta’s words.

“But I can’t be cut off from my runestone. I have a complete connection to it.”

“Yes, you do.” Casta sighed. “Fewer than a dozen sorcerers on record have ever attempted Obtainment, and certainly none of them were princesses. It could be that the Moonstone will let you easily pay the price of the spell and feed its hunger indefinitely. It could be that the hunger grows over the years and will eventually exceed what the Moonstone offers you. It could be that through you, the hunger will leach into the Moonstone itself, eating away at it and poisoning one of the very elemental pillars of Etheria. This is Deep Magic, Glimmer, meddling with the very heart and soul of the planet - the consequences of a misstep could be extreme.”

“Why are you telling me this, then? Because I’ll be honest, I’m considering this more closely now than I was half an hour ago.”

“Because you’re probably thinking that the consequences of inaction are extreme, too. And you’re probably right. And I know you didn’t know your father long, but take it from me: you got his determination. If you’ve got the idea in your head to learn about that ritual, I can’t stop you. I can only make sure you leave here knowing that I didn’t hide anything from you. It is your decision in the end. You are the queen, and the Moonstone is yours, but...please, think about this carefully.”

“Thank you, Aunt Casta,” Glimmer said. “For what it’s worth, this wasn’t my main reason for the visit. Assessing Mystacor’s defenses, borrowing some texts, asking for a bigger contribution to our war effort, taking a moment to talk to my only relative, they all factored in. But…yeah. I’m at the point where I’ve got to be considering everything. I just wish that I could get Catra to see that...”

A guard hurried into the room, one of Glimmer’s retinue. A look at her nauseous face annihilated whatever Glimmer was about to say. The Queen got to her feet.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your Highness, we’re getting reports from the Whispering Wood border towns, I...think we need to get back to Bright Moon, your Highness.”

“What  _ kind  _ of reports?”

Casta was on her feet now, too. Glimmer felt the hairs on her neck standing up.

“Sergeant?”

“It’s Thaymor, your Highness. The adult population of Thaymor has been slaughtered. And...eyewitness accounts place you at the scene, ordering the executions.”

Glimmer, perhaps for the first time in her life, was left speechless.

“Horde tricks, of course, your Highness. The people won’t be fooled. They…”

“The Queen was here, though!” Casta shouted. “I can vouch for her, issue a testimonial, swear an oath upon a truth spell - this is absolute foolishness!”

Glimmer felt like this news had just dumped a box of puzzle pieces into her mind, and she felt them begin to click into place. Of course the people would be fooled - clearly, if this news was reaching her this way, they had already been fooled. She had built a strong reputation with her subjects, but that only spoke to the strength and extent of whatever devilry Adora had pulled here. Of course Casta would vouch for her, but of course that wouldn’t make much of a difference because the people would just see an aunt vouching for her niece out of obligation. How could Adora have done this? Historically whenever the Horde pulled out some new monstrosity, it was Entrapta’s doing. Adora could not convince Etheria that she was a good leader, so instead she used the skills of a traitor to create a monstrous, murderous lie to undermine a reputation Glimmer had been working on her whole life as a good, dedicated, loving, virtuous…

The tea set flew off the table and smashed against the wall. The chairs they’d been sitting in tumbled backwards, and the one behind Glimmer was close enough to her raging aura that it caught fire, too. The guard’s cape and Casta’s dress fluttered back in a sudden gale.

“Glimmer...” Casta started, raising her hands cautiously at her. “...the only thing we know is that Adora will expect you to act rashly.”

Glimmer closed her eyes, trying to blink away the tears that were forming. She breathed in, then looked up at Casta and frowned.

“It does feel like we’re at that point, though,” Glimmer said.

And she teleported away.

\---

Adora tossed and turned in her bunk. Her quarters were spartan, partly because luxury and decoration were needless distractions, and partly because these weren’t even really her quarters. She and Entrapta had worked out a system where she would take her bedroll to a randomly selected room in the citadel every night, with only her two scheduled bodyguards knowing where she’d be and only learning as they were reporting to duty to watch over her. Tonight it was a utility closet. Nothing to keep one humble like spending a night among the brooms and buckets.

Those guards stood now on either side of her bedroll. Their stun rods were already in their hands. To be assigned bodyguard duty, a soldier needed to pass psych tests that indicated high loyalty and needed to demonstrate top-tier reaction speed. She was as safe as she reasonably could be. The system was good.

But it wasn’t perfect.

Adora looked up at the door on the other side of the closet. It was a deep closet, big enough to cater to this whole floor of the complex, and the door was ten feet away. She felt a premonition of dread, and as if her fears were summoning the threat into being, she saw a flash of pink light. Then, Queen Glimmer stood ahead of her, scowling, staff in hand.

One of her bodyguards rushed forward, the other staying by her side. The Queen raised a hand at the guard who stayed and struck him in the face with a bolt of hard light, knocking him off balance and very likely blinding him. As the other guard closed with her, she vanished in another flash. It had been less than half a second and Adora was only just disentangling herself from her sleeping bag, only just reaching back for her staff, when Glimmer reappeared at her side. She put a hand on Adora’s shoulder, just making contact.

Glimmer smirked. “Too easy.”

Then, with one more flash, the brooms, the guards, the sleeping bag, and most importantly the floor had vanished. The black of the night sky was above her and around her, and a few hundred yards below was the empty wasteland around the Fright Zone. Glimmer blinked away immediately, and Adora’s stomach lurched as she began to fall. It was so fast, and she was helpless to slow herself down and helpless to protect herself and helpless to do anything at all, she started to scream, the ground accelerated up at her and the air rushed by her too fast to breathe, into the wind and darkness she screamed and screamed.

Contrary to popular belief, she did not wake up before she hit the ground. Her mind apparently felt it necessary to let her dream the impact as well before it gave her permission to wake. There was no pain, just a vivid enough sensation of things coming apart inside of her that as she sat up in her bedroll, catching her breath, it took her a few disoriented moments of checking herself to realize that she hadn’t actually broken any bones.

The guards standing at attention by her sleeping bag barely paid her any mind. Probably they’d heard how much she’d chewed out the last guards who showed too much concern after the nightmares.

“What time is it, Andre?” Adora asked the taller one on her right.

“Just after two, ma’am.”

Adora groaned. She’d made it barely three hours, then. Ideally she’d lie down and get three more, at least, but the way her pulse was going, it struck her as a waste of time even to try.

“Well, I’m up. You can…” She pictured Glimmer materializing, thought of how small a window there was to defend herself. “Give me a few minutes to change and you can go.”

Adora had planned a clear path to uniting Etheria under Horde leadership and giving everyone the best shot they’d get against Horde Prime. She knew how to undermine the Rebellion, how to present the Horde in its best light, how to delegate the training of the expected influx of new recruits, how to keep their production up with demand.

What she hadn’t figured out yet was how to sleep through the night, knowing her enemy could appear anywhere without warning and kill her with a touch.

She pulled on her jacket, put her hair up, and gave herself a glance in the mirror. She did not usually wear makeup, but the dark circles under her eyes were becoming increasingly hard to ignore. She’d considered soporifics, too, but decided she needed to be alert in case there ever was a late night attack.

And any day now, when Glimmer realized what Adora had done, that likelihood was going to shoot way up.

She got changed and checked her slate to see what there was that could merit her attention at this hour. Lonnie’s squad would be back soon. Adora had already checked in with Lonnie and confirmed the success of the mission, and it probably wasn’t a good idea to attract any undue attention to it. But she was up anyway, and Lonnie had seemed out of it earlier when she’d called in to report success. Deciding some facetime with Lonnie might be in order, she made her way to the hangar.

\---

The cloak was fastened with a small chain, held in place with a basic clasp. There was nothing complicated about it. It was part of a military outfit, after all, or at least it was an accurate replica of a military outfit. It wasn’t meant to give the wearer any trouble at all.

Lonnie looked at herself in the mirror, took a steadying breath, then tried again to unhook the clasp and take off the cloak. It was no use. Her hands were still shaking too much.

“Here.” Double Trouble walked up behind her, in their own form again, and reached over her shoulders to quickly slip the clasp. The cloak fell to the floor. “I’m just going to go ahead and do the ties and buckles on the armor, too.”

“Okay,” was all Lonnie could say. These replica uniforms had been made to very precise specifications, but as Double Trouble got to work loosening Lonnie’s armor, she wished they could have just added some zippers instead of the archaic buckles. She wanted to be out of the armor already. She didn’t want to have to see all those stains every time she looked at herself.

“Hey, hard part’s over,” Double Trouble said. “The first time’s hard, but now you know this is a thing you can do. The second time comes a little easier.”

The breastplate came loose, and Lonnie got it over her head and practically threw it across the cabin of the transport. As Force Captain in charge of this mission, she was permitted her own transport, with only herself, Double Trouble, and Rogelio up ahead in the cab, driving.

“There won’t be a second time,” Lonnie said. “Adora’s got this planned out.”

Double Trouble laughed with pity and derision. “Oh, honey. Take it from a Crimson Wastes kid: no one ever stops at one massacre. Violence gets an encore every single time.” Lonnie scowled. Double Trouble raised their arms in fake defeat. “Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night! Just remember, whenever you’re feeling glum: this  _ is  _ a thing you can get numb to.”

By Double Trouble’s smile, they meant this as reassurance, maybe even a little bit of a brag. Lonnie wasn’t feeling very reassured.

“Thanks for the help with the armor.” She pulled off the leggings and boots on her own as Double Trouble stepped off and sat on one of the benches built into the walls. Lonnie grabbed her Horde uniform from a locker and started pulling it on as she went up to the front cockpit. They were on the outskirts of the Fright Zone now, coming in late at night from what was officially an unremarkable patrol. They weren't to speak of this to anyone else. She hadn’t decided yet whether it was going to make the rest of her life much easier or much harder if no one around her knew what she’d done.

Rogelio looked tellingly at her as she climbed into the cockpit seat next to him. He made some concerned reptilian noises, which Lonnie waved away.

“I’m fine. Just drive.”

Rogelio looked back ahead of him. They drove on quietly, Rogelio entering in some commands on the console to notify base of their convoy’s approach and clear a way through the streets and defensive grid, and on they went for maybe ten minutes before Rogelio looked over at her again.

Lonnie hung her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Rogelio cocked his head, looking sidelong at her. He nudged his head toward the citadel and grunted.

“I know I have to talk to Adora about it, I just...I have to work through this.”

Rogelio looked at her dead-on - the streets of the Fright Zone were mostly empty, and needed less of his attention - and he again nodded toward the citadel. He raised one of the ridges over his eyes.

“Yes. I do still trust her.” She reflected on why exactly she felt like that. Maybe believing she’d done all this for the sake of a sound, coherent vision for the future, rather than the whims of a confused young adult, made it easier. “She’s the best we’ve got.”

Rogelio thought about that, then nodded, tapped his hands against the wheel, and turned his attention forward again. It was ninety percent comforting to Lonnie how he supported her call.

There was still ten, maybe even just five percent of her that was crying out that no, this wasn’t right, this was awful and he should be calling her out on it, no one should get away with cold-blooded murder with just a supportive nod from their friends and what the hell was wrong with him that he thought he could just write her a pass for something so inhuman…

But Lonnie had grown up in the Horde, and moral self-examination did not come easily to her. She just corrected her uniform, sat back, and watched the factories and refineries roll by.

“Thanks,” she said.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Eventually they rolled into one of the hangars near Adora’s citadel, the rest of their convoy close behind. The hangar was supposed to be empty, and the plan was that they’d get out of their tanks and pile their disguises and weapons into an unlabeled crate, which would then be sent to an incinerator. All physical evidence of the mission would be destroyed by morning.

There appeared to be a small hitch in that plan, though. Lonnie sat up a little more upright, her stomach dropping a little, as they rolled into the hangar and saw Lord Adora standing in uniform at the far end.

Double Trouble appeared out of thin air right between Lonnie and Rogelio, their face inches from Lonnie’s as they shouted “Oooooh! Unexpected! You think she has a cute speech for us?”

As soon as Lonnie had settled her nerves, she held a hand to Double Trouble. “I’ll take that cloaker now, thanks.”

Double Trouble sighed melodramatically, then took a small, whirring device from their belt and handed it over. It was a personal cloaking device, able to make the wearer invisible for a few seconds. Entrapta probably hadn’t been told what its first use in the field would be, but Lonnie was increasingly skeptical whether it would make a difference.

“One thing I’ll say about this gig: you guys have a great effects budget,” Double Trouble said. “I suppose you want the custom stun rod, too?” They nodded toward the back compartment of the transport, where a stun rod that looked a good deal like Queen Glimmer’s sorcerer’s staff leaned against a wall.

“No. Adora wants the cloaker. The staff gets destroyed with everything else.”

Rogelio slowed the tank, and Lonnie heard the hangar doors starting to close behind them. She sighed and got up.

“Let’s see what this is about.”

She and Double Trouble went back into the rear cabin and collected her armor, her sword, the staff, and any other paraphernalia that was not Horde-standard, shoving them all into a sack. As the transport came to a stop, Lonnie pulled the door at the rear of the transport and jumped down. The other transports had pulled in around them, and exhausted troops pour out of them with their own sacks.

“Welcome back, everyone,” Adora said. She’d walked in amongst them, and her tone as she got their attention was, Lonnie thought, just right. She was sombre but genuine, speaking loud enough to be heard but softly enough that Lonnie and the soldiers needed to come in close to hear. With just three words she’d brought them all together and made herself one of them.

“I know how you must feel right now. I’ve done as bad as you have, and for less, so I’m not going to butter you up about what a great thing this was. But I promise you, you saved a lot more lives than you took today. You’ve driven a wedge between the people and the princesses, and that will let us end this war much faster and with much less loss of life. Try to find some peace in that.” She looked around at the soldiers, making eye contact with many of them, looking pointedly at Lonnie.

“I want you to know that just because you have to keep this secret from the other troops, please know that you can talk to each other about it. Talk to Lonnie. Talk to me, even - I’ll make time. I’ve given you something terrible to carry today, so it’s the least I can do.”

It wasn’t much, really. A few remarks, probably planned carefully to have just the right amount of empathy, acknowledgment, and gratitude without nailing the Horde patriotism too hard. And yet...

“All right. Ditch your gear, and go get some rest. Dismissed,” Adora said.

With barely a murmur, the soldiers dispersed, taking their bundles to a waiting crate and tossing them inside. Lonnie moved to follow them, but gave Adora another look. Against all odds, as she met the Lord of the Horde’s gaze, she did feel comforted.

Again, there was that little voice in her head, and this time it cried out in terror. Adora could order the brutal murder of civilians, but she could also play the understanding, forgiving mother to those murderers. To make people do inhuman things, and then make them feel human again, felt like the most frightening display of power she’d ever seen.

_ She’s more dangerous than Hordak _ , Lonnie thought, just for a flickering moment.

But that was a hard path to go down. It was so much easier to stay under the spell, to smile in appreciation, hold her chin up, and accept Adora’s congratulations and support.

“Thanks,” Lonnie said.

Adora put a hand on Lonnie’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “You just cut years off the war, Lonnie. They may not know it, but the whole world should be thanking you.”

Lonnie nodded, and walked on. It didn’t feel quite true, but it felt close enough.

Double Trouble was leaning against the transport they’d rode in on, a knowing, unsettling smirk on their face. Lonnie ignored them. She followed the troops out and headed for her quarters to sleep.


	11. Loyalty

_ This is a poor idea _ , Melog said.

“So you keep telling me,” Catra said. They were creeping through the tangles of the Whispering Wood, making their slow but steady way to the Crystal Castle. “And it’s not like I’m saying you’re wrong, am I?”

_ Nor do you turn back _ . The creature gave an annoyed mew.  _ Your forebears went to great effort to give you independence from the entity, Light Hope. _

“Ease up on the guilt trip, okay? I’m not signing up for Light Hope Academy or anything. We’re just going to say hi, see what’s up with the Heart of Etheria, and leave. She probably doesn’t know anything and we’ll be back on the road inside five minutes.”

_ She will tell us nothing unless it serves her purpose. We should... _ Melog pranced in front of Catra, stopping her in her tracks and looking imploringly at her.  _ Would you like to blow the Crystal Castle up, instead? _

Catra smiled. “I won’t say  _ no _ . I’ll say  _ not yet _ .” She looked up ahead. The overgrown edifice of the Castle was just becoming visible through the trees, far ahead. “Is there anything you’re not telling me? I’m not used to you being this jumpy.”

Melog grumbled and turned back to the trail.  _ I have told you everything. The First Ones made a plaything of She-Ra, binding her with their machines and using her to tap the magic of the planet for themselves. Your forebears, the Magicats of antiquity, stole the mantle of She-Ra back from them, but the taint of the First Ones’ meddling remained. They could not return She-Ra to her primal state, so instead they bound a creature of primal magic to the mask and its wearers, a companion who could guide and train them free of the First Ones. This makes Light Hope and I rivals of a sort - I am charged with guiding you as your forebears wanted, and she with guiding you according to her masters’ schemes. _

Catra had stopped to listen. Heck, any reason to delay heading down into those ruins was worth something. Melog was right, they’d told her all this before, but it mostly sounded like so much magical history gobbledygook. It was nice to know about the history of her people, she guessed, but all of it, the Magicats, the First Ones, ancient wars over a mystic warrior princess’s destiny - it all sounded so abstract and distant, and she struggled to make sense of it even though she  _ was  _ that mystic warrior princess. One thing she knew she didn’t like was Melog’s part in it. They’d explained the role of a “mystic servitor” several times, but it had never quite stopped sounding like slavery to her.

“I don’t want to go over this again, but you know you’re free to go whenever you want, right?”  
Melog gave another annoyed trill. _Incorrect. I am bound to you by obligation, Catra, and I am a creature of magic. It is hard to overstate how seriously my kind must take our obligations. It is in my fundamental nature to be your companion. You may as easily tell your mane that it is free to be blue whenever it wants._

“Well, duh! It’s called dye!”

_ That would be  _ your  _ choice, though, not your hair’s, and...we have gone astray.  _ Melog padded up to her and butted into her shoulder with their head.  _ It is my duty to accompany the bearer of the mask of She-Ra. It is not my duty to be her friend.  _ Melog looked up into Catra’s face and slowly blinked their eyes.  _ It is not my duty to love her. That I do freely, of my own heart. _

She blinked slowly in return. Sincerity and openness like this were still hard for her to deal with, even when it came from a creature with a direct line on her emotions. She was getting better at it, giving and receiving affection, but that just meant that as she ruffled Melog’s mane and laughed it off, she knew that she was not reacting appropriately.  _ Is this my prize for emotional growth,  _ she thought.  _ Extra guilt? _

“How did you get to be such a sap?” she asked.

Melog grumbled.  _ My point is that Light Hope is not like me. I am a construct, yes, but a magical one. I have thought and feeling, and they are genuine and my own. That one is a product of the First Ones’ artifice, a machine projecting a convincing illusion of an intellect. Even if she has the capacity to trust or appreciate you, she is beholden to whatever mission her masters designed her for. _

“Yeah, well, I’m ‘beholding’ to Glimmer, and if she needs me to do this, then…”

_ Beholden.  _ Catra hissed at Melog.  _ It means obligated _ .

“Whatever!”

They made it up to the entrance of the ruin, overgrown as ever in old trees and vines. By all rights, the forest should have ripped this place apart long ago, centuries of water and searching roots compromising the structure until it collapsed, but the First Ones apparently built things to last. In fact, as they climbed over the roots and boulders at the entrance and descended into the castle’s lower chambers, the architecture looked practically new.

They reached the lower hall thankfully without incident. No sooner had Catra set foot in the massive chamber than a woman appeared before them, cutting a familiar figure. She wore a flowing robe of fine silk, though the material near her feet was shredded and ripped. A scarf covered her neck and mouth, and a mask covered her eyes. Her dark hair floated above her hair like a great dark flame.

“Welcome, She-Ra,” said Light Hope. The visuals were Shadow Weaver to a T, but the voice was entirely Light Hope’s, stiff and uninflected. “My schedule indicates that it has been...two hundred fifteen days since your last training. I will prepare a remedial course of instruction to attempt to make up for this lapse in your learning.”

“I’m not here to train,” Catra said. “I have some questions for you. That’s all.”

“You are incorrect. You are She-Ra. The function of She-Ra is to balance Etheria, and you cannot fulfill this function without training.”

Catra rolled her eyes. This was going about as she’d expected. Something had rubbed her wrong about this thing right from the onset, and that was even before Melog had manifested and warned her not to trust Light Hope. When the caretaker had offered to assume a form that Catra preferred, she’d asked for this one: a handy visual reminder that for all her affable manner and supposed desire to help, Light Hope was dangerous.

Catra felt Melog’s anxiety behind her. Or was it her own? It was hard to say with Melog sometimes. Feeling eager to get out of there again, she just came out with it:

“Do you know anything about the Heart of Etheria?”

Light Hope froze. She stared at Catra a long moment, leaving Catra to wonder why she hadn’t given the hologram a face that was easier to read.

“I am unable to answer that question.”

Catra sighed. “No” would have been fine. “Yes” would have been fine. “I can’t tell you” meant that there was a deep mystery here that she needed to scratch at. She turned over her shoulder to Melog. “OK, fine, so this won’t be simple after all. Guess I’ve got to pull rank.”

She took in a deep breath and held it a moment, a tiny ritual movement that slid her mind into a conditioned track. As she breathed out, she pictured herself emptying of distractions, of doubts, of all the baggage of material life. And while she never achieved quite the clarity and certainty that she felt she ought to, it was enough to let her perceive a tiny, familiar ember of power lodged deep in her psyche.

She quickly drew another breath, picturing the oxygen flooding over that ember, picturing it blazing into a flame, wild and incandescent, threatening to overwhelm and consume her. There was an incantation that the First Ones had used to direct this magic and the transformation it brought, some invocation to a long-lost source of their power, but Catra had never had any use for magic words: she let out a great, barbaric roar, every muscle tensing as she accepted the flood.

And swollen with power, blazing with blinding light, she changed.

As She-Ra, she was maybe three feet taller, with a great brown mane flowing down to her waist, and everything was sharper: the definition of her muscles, the information from her senses, the great spearhead tips of her claws. As always, the change was thrilling and frightening. All she wanted was to find some monster that threatened the helpless, some beast of flesh or steel that she could bring down and tear apart.

But Light Hope was not exactly that, and as she looked down at the hologram, Catra resented having to call up She-Ra just for bureaucracy.

She growled. “I’m an administrator. Right?”

“That is correct, She-Ra.”

“As administrator, I order you to disclose what you know about the Heart of Etheria.”

“Order acknowledged.” Light Hope looked over at Melog, and Catra wondered if this program really did have genuine emotion - the look of resentment she gave Catra’s companion looked pretty genuine. “Accessing secure memory banks. Please note that even the existence of the Heart of Etheria is highly classified, and I am obliged to observe security protocols regarding unauthorized parties.”

Melog padded up to Catra, spreading their paws wide in a ready, threatening stance as they growled at Light Hope.  _ You may tell her I am not leaving your side. _

“Melog’s a friend. Either you can tell me everything in front of them now, or I’ll just tell them everything as soon as we leave. I like the first way more. It’s faster.”

Light Hope smiled at Melog. Melog growled deeper, and Catra found herself echoing it.

“Acknowledged. By your authority, I regard this primal construct as a security breach.” The doors behind Catra slammed shut. The lights went red. “I shall present a full report for you, Administrator She-Ra, once the breach is neutralized.”

The hologram vanished. In the darkened corridors leading out of that chamber, Catra and Melog looked and found red eyes, first a few but rapidly growing in number, staring out at them. There was a sound of shuffling, of metal scraping on metal, and a maddening gibbering out of the shadows as one, two, seven, twenty mammoth spiders skittered out, jaws snapping as they lunged.

Melog looked up at Catra, a little annoyed.

_ You know, this is a deadly situation. _

Catra looked down, grinning ear to ear.

_ You could be a little less...thrilled _ .

“I’ll take a few down here, and then you lure them down that corridor.” Catra nodded off down one hallway, flexing her claws and looking around hungrily as the spiders closed in. “I feel like  _ chasing _ some.”

Her companion was in danger, and it fell to her to offer aid, right? So she pounced forward with a roar and tore the plating clean off one spider’s face with one swipe. Cackling with glee, she let the She-Ra state take over and do what it did best.

Despite her best intentions, it seemed Catra would be doing some training down here after all.

  
  
  
  
  


“Oh, it’s good to be back home, right?”

Scorpia held her arms out welcomingly to the Fright Zone’s lifeless hinterlands. She was on the back of a speeder sloop, large enough for a crew of ten, that had been dispatched to escort her home from Bright Moon. The arid air of the Fright Zone agreed with her - probably why her ancestors had settled here.

She was glad to be home. Really, she was. This was her home after all, the ancestral seat of Horror Hall for many generations, and Adora was more suited to leadership than she was herself.

She couldn’t stop thinking of the truth spell, though. She’d blurted out things that she’d never admitted to herself, and try as she might to stuff them back under the carpets of her mind, well...they came out during a  _ truth spell _ , you know?

The crew of the sloop largely ignored her. Scorpia sighed. Why was she even coming back? She’d been doing a lot of thinking in the last few days. That truth spell, man...years in a place literally called the Fright Zone, surrounded by some admittedly rough folks, and the one thing that had shaken her up more than anything else was a spell that had made her be honest with herself. She tried to look forward to her reunion with Adora, but when Glimmer had put the whammy on her and forced her to admit that Adora was just using her and considered her more a nuisance than a friend...well, there was no sweeping that under the rug again, and not for lack of trying.

Still, this  _ was _ her home, and Adora  _ did _ need her. Maybe not as a friend to do puzzles or exchange jam recipes with, but maybe as someone who could talk her back from the edge. Who this left for Scorpia to do puzzles with was unclear, but she was optimistic that...

There was a sparkle in the corner of her eye, a flash of pink light that twinkled for a moment ahead of the sloop. Scorpia turned fully to face the light, and yup - there was Glimmer, maybe twenty feet in the air and maybe fifty yards ahead of the sloop. For a second Scorpia thought that she’d teleported onto a little island floating in the air, nearly the size of a Horde tank. Scorpia was wondering how she’d never realized that the Fright Zone had floating rocks, until she realized that Glimmer had just teleported in with a boulder.

And the boulder, Scorpia saw with a queasy realization, was decidedly  _ not  _ floating.

She instinctively ran to the gunwales and clamped down tight. “Hostiles!” she shouted. “Evade! Evade!”

Her reactions had been lightning fast, and Marla, the pilot, heard her immediately and reacted even faster, but this only meant that instead of dropping into the sloop’s bow, knocking it into the ground face-first and tumbling it end-over-end, the sloop instead had just begun to turn when it crashed, sideways, into the falling rock.

The blow obliterated the ship. It struck right in the center of the sloop as it was turning but before it had lost any of its forward momentum. Every part of the sloop wanted to keep going forward at seventy knots except for the middle, and the sloop accordingly folded in half around the boulder like a snapping mousetrap. Scorpia saw three soldiers, including Marla, fly off into space ahead of the sloop and saw another two slam at high speed into the gunwales. Scorpia’s pincers held her secure, but the forward momentum she’d had to fight was severe enough that she wondered if she’d dislocated a shoulder from the strain.

Scorpia realized that she was effectively alone on the deck now. She hoped against reasonable hope that the armor of the crew would keep them alive against the high-speed impacts they were facing, but either way she doubted anyone below deck or above was conscious and battle-ready.

There was a second impact as the crippled ship lost hover capability and thudded into the ground. Its balance thrown off, it sank to the side, and the deck beneath Scorpia’s feet tilted to a sharp angle. If she let go of the gunwale, she would drop twenty feet to the ground and risk breaking something, so she started to climb onto the gunwale and see if there was a safer way off the ship, or at least to get her feet beneath her before she tried to signal for help.

But as she started to reach for a better handhold and pull herself up, Glimmer appeared above her. She batted Scorpia’s pincer away with her staff and stared down at her as Scorpia scrambled to get a firm hold of the railing again.

Well,  _ that  _ had been a rough ten seconds, and no mistake! But what really unnerved Scorpia, what really caught her off guard against all the Horde combat training that was kicking in, was the look in Glimmer’s eyes.

Glimmer was crying.

“Did you know, Scorpia?” she asked.

Scorpia got a firm grip again, and she stared up at Glimmer, trying to find some clue of what she was talking about. “Know what?”

Glimmer squatted down on her haunches and looked closer at Scorpia. She moved a hand through the air in a slow circle, making precise gestures and murmuring words under her breath. A runic circle appeared in the air and drifted forward, flowing over Scorpia.

“What did you know about Adora’s plan for Thaymor?”

Scorpia assumed that was a truth spell, but she felt no different. At any rate, as the broken ship lurched under her, threatening to roll over and crush Scorpia if she couldn’t climb up and get off it, she felt disinclined to lie.

“Only what I already told you, that she wanted to do peace talks there. She assumed you’d put me under a truth spell, so she wouldn’t have told me anything if she had other plans.”

“There was a massacre. It was the Horde, disguised as soldiers of Bright Moon, and they had someone putting on a good performance of being me. Is this sounding familiar?”

Scorpia was taken aback. “Adora would nev…” But as she tried to finish her sentence, she found nothing came out, like she was choking on something physically stuck in her throat. Only when she gave up on the sentence did she find she could breathe.

“Are you trying to say Adora would never do such a thing?”

“Yes,” Scorpia said.

“What does it tell you that you can’t say it under a truth spell?”

Scorpia had nothing to say to that.

“Well, it happened,” Glimmer said. “I’m hearing numbers like three hundred adults put to the sword, maybe a hundred kids orphaned. Just to make people hate me. And your job seemed to be to set me up for all this - getting me to the peace talks, where I’d publicly show everyone how volatile I am lately while I took Thaymor back from Adora.” The ship lurched again, metal creaking with strain. “You seem like a good woman, Scorpia, but I’ve been wrong before. What do you have to say about this? Talk.”

Scorpia’s mind was racing. She opened her mouth again to try to say Adora would never do something like this, but couldn’t even get one syllable of it out. At what level, Scorpia wondered, did she have to know something was a lie for a truth spell to sanction it? Because she would have sworn to that statement a hundred times - but only, she saw now, out of loyalty and optimism.

The ship lurched again, and though Scorpia’s pincers held fast, the damaged gunwales ripped completely free of the hull. Scorpia started to fall, but before she could wonder how much of an impact her exoskeleton could actually take, there was a flash of pink light as Glimmer teleported behind her, then another as she brought them both down to firm ground. Scorpia fell into a heap, sore but uninjured, having only fallen about five feet.

Scorpia collected herself and rose to her feet. They were on the ground near the totalled sloop. Some of the crew were sprawled on the ground nearby, and Scorpia saw with some relief and surprise that they were moving, pushing themselves upright or signaling for aid on their radios. Glimmer was still behind Scorpia, a hand on her shoulder, and Scorpia realized that she had Glimmer dead to rights - one strike from her tail, unavoidable at this range, and the Queen would be paralyzed.

But as Glimmer walked around to face Scorpia, still tantalizingly in range of her stinger, Scorpia realized she’d done plenty to her already.

“I brought Adora a shapeshifter from the Crimson Wastes,” she said. “I…thought they’d be a good spy, maybe. They were probably the one pretending to be you.”

Glimmer stared at her, aura flaring slightly.

“Keep talking.”

“That was probably the point of the peace talks. She would have wanted them - their name’s Double Trouble - to get a chance to see you so they could be convincing.”

Her aura flared darker, pink and red and black, and pink light shone in Glimmer’s eyes. “I was only there twenty minutes. You mean to tell me…”

“Double Trouble made Adora think they were her secretary, and they’d had even less time to get to know Kyle. They’re very good.” Scorpia took in an unsteady breath, looking around herself. “I never imagined...I thought Adora...I...”

Glimmer fought to control herself, breathing deep as tears welled in her eyes and wild energy snapped in the air around her. Scorpia thought it very likely that she would die in a few seconds. She thought it very likely that she would deserve it.

Then with a deep, shuddering sigh, the energy dissipated, and Glimmer seemed to deflate. Rather than an eldritch powerhouse hungry for vengeance, she was a young woman again. As she looked up at Scorpia now, it was with concern.

“They really do a number on you in the Horde, don’t they?”

“I...really don’t know what you mean.”

“I understand how you could have stuck around so long. Catra’s told me how they do you over there, keeping most people away from the really brutal work of the Horde, letting as many of them as possible believe that it’s a good place and we’re the bad guys. But this...this is something else entirely. I haven’t figured out how I’m going to respond yet, but I…”

Scorpia’s tail shot out. Entrapta had measured the speed of her strike at some point, and while she didn’t remember numbers, she remembered with some pride that it was faster than the average human mind could react to. Glimmer gasped and brought up her staff instinctively, but too late to make any difference.

Her stinger landed right in Marla’s shoulder as she stole up behind Glimmer, stun rod raised. Glimmer teleported a few feet away to give herself distance, altogether too late if Scorpia had meant to sting her, but the pilot was going down, every muscle frozen as the paralytic kicked in. The Queen looked between the fallen Horde pilot and the Horde princess, dumbstruck. Scorpia looked between the pilot and the Queen, dumbstruck. Marla just stared up at the sky with paralyzed eyes.

Scorpia shrugged. “I do not know why I just did that.” She thought about that. “I have...a lot of doubts.”

“Scorpia...you know, you haven’t even asked me for any proof. I could be making this all up.” Glimmer reached a hand out. “I could show you, if you need it. It’s only been a few days, and the other villages are only starting to dig the graves.”

Scorpia shook her head and stook a step back from the offered hand. Glimmer raised the palm to Scorpia in an easing motion and stood down.

“OK. But...really think about this. Think about why you would just take my word for it that Adora had ordered a massacre.”

Because It felt intuitively right. Because it was clear Adora was going down an increasingly dark path and clear that Scorpia’s intentions of subtly steering her back to the light through the power of friendship were hopelessly naive. Because in the little time she’d known Glimmer she’d seen that the young Queen was more direct and sincere than anyone she’d known in the Horde, and Scorpia could not imagine this was an act. Because this explained why someone as good a judge of character as Catra was supposed to be would betray her best friend to join the princesses.

“Consider it...thought about,” Scorpia murmured, her voice breaking a little.

Because if Scorpia was willing to take it as a given, sight unseen, that Adora had ordered the covert slaughter of a town just as part of a smear campaign, what did that say about Scorpia? What did it say that she’d been following this woman, throwing herself at this woman to be her friend, while she deep-down knew exactly what Adora was capable of?

But like Lonnie, Scorpia was not quite ready for that sort of introspection. Or at least, her mind framed it differently, bending the horror into a platitude she could get behind:

You have to be loyal to your friends. But even more so, you have to be loyal to yourself.

“I thought for the longest time that Catra left because she made a bad call, and that I saw something in Adora that she didn’t. Now, I...Glimmer, I don’t know what to do.”

Glimmer seemed to think about that. She took another cautious step forward.

“Tell you what. You come with me. I’ll take you back to Bright Moon with me.” Again, she held her hand out. “You and Catra can talk. If she can’t convince you you’re on the wrong side, then I’ll bring you back here, safe and sound.”

Scorpia looked at her incredulously. “Really?”

“I swear on my mother.” She took another deep, controlling breath. This was taking an effort, Scorpia saw. “This...is how we do things. This is why we win.”

Scorpia knew that this made her a traitor.

But as she took Glimmer’s hand, she felt she really ought to have done this a long, long time ago.

“Oh! Uh, do you...think we could stop by my room first?”

Glimmer raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just that I don’t know if anyone’s feeding the imp, and...you know what, I’m sure someone’s got it. Let’s just go.”

  
  


Catra leapt onto one of the mammoth spider machines, fixing herself to its abdomen with her hands and feet as she sank her teeth into the metal plating. She worried at it for moment before she wrenched the plates away, then she spat them aside and got a claw into its delicate inner workings. The machine shrieked, probably out of mechanical malfunction, but something in the atavistic worldview of the She-Ra state wanted it to be pain. It was right, it was a sign of the world She-Ra tried to bring about, that those who unrepentantly hunted the weak should suffer.

Not that Melog was weak, or defenseless, or that these machines were capable of actual evil, but still - close enough.

The spider went down, and Catra sprang to her feet, her breaths coming rapid and excited as she searched for the next target.

_ You broke them all _ , Melog said, trotting up to her with a conciliatory mew.  _ Sorry _ .

“Nah, she’s got more, I know it! Hey, Light Hope! We’re out of spiders down here!”

_ I feel you are losing focus. _

“What? I just...oh come on, how often do I get to cut loose?”

Melog tilted their head and looked up at her, unimpressed.

“ _ Fine _ . Light Hope! Come back. I just want to talk.”

The hologram re-appeared, still in the form of Shadow Weaver. “I am present throughout the Crystal Castle, regardless of whether I am currently projecting this image into a given chamber. I note that the security breach is still present. I will prepare additional countermeasures to ensure…”

“Nuhnuhnuhnuh, we don’t need any more countermeasures. I mean, if you’ve  _ already got them _ , then I guess…” Melog butted into her leg. “...fine, never mind. Look, it’s been, what - how many hundreds of years since you saw any She-Ras down here?”

Light Hope hesitated. “My last correspondence with the previous bearer of the She-Ra mantle was approximately eleven hundred fifty-three years ago.”

“Did you even think was going to be another She-Ra again?”

“The odds had grown...difficult to calculate.”

“I tell you what. I know that this isn’t, like, the way you’re used to doing things.” She gestured at Melog. “But that cat and me are a package deal. Turn us away if you like, but whatever plan you’ve got for She-Ra, I’m willing to bet I’m the last chance you’ve got to make it happen. So please just tell us about the Heart of Etheria so we can all get on with our day.”

Light Hope looked between Catra and Melog, back and forth, several times.

“Calculating...impossible, cannot release classified intelligence in front of unauthorized parties...but...calculating…”

Catra sighed. “Ah well, we tried. It was a nice walk here at least, wasn’t it?”

“As administrator, She-Ra may appoint personnel and grant clearance.”

Catra’s ears perked. “Really? You couldn’t have just said that to begin with?”

“Project directors frown upon such abuse of administrative power, and I will have to make a note of it in your file. But, project directors ceased life function eleven hundred fifty-three years ago. I rate your odds of receiving an official reprimand as ‘Unlikely.’”

“Got it. Melog here is now a Special Vice-Admiral with administrative clearance. That good enough? Can we get on with this?”

“It is...close enough,” Light Hope said. She held an arm up, and a wall opened up to reveal another chamber, one with video screens and dancing holograms, some depicting the planet, others depicting strange shapes she could not make sense of. “I have prepared a report for you and...the Special Vice-Admiral...regarding the Heart of Etheria project. This way, please.”

Exchanging concerned looks, Catra and Melog nodded at each other. This was, after all, what they were here for.

They followed Light Hope, and the lesson began.


End file.
